


Our Love is a Middle School Symphony

by mckinlily



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU where these are the LAST people you want saving the universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Social Awkwardness as a plot device, except I've never actually seen the show so like REALLY vaguely, this turned out more gen than I expected and I am OK with that, vaguely inspired by 10 things I hate about you, yes shallura shippers this IS tagged correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckinlily/pseuds/mckinlily
Summary: Lance likes Keith. Keith likes Lance. This should be a simple story, but Keith panics when Lance asks him out, and well…Now Lance is convinced that Keith can’t date unless his foster brother, Shiro, does too.Cue Lance banding together with his best friends, Hunk and Pidge, and his cousin Allura (who does NOT have a crush on Shiro. Shut up) to concoct an elaborate plot. Together they will END Shiro’s streak of singleness whether Shiro wants them to or not.Is there a better way to handle this situation?Oh yes, definitely. But Lance and co. aren’t going to be the ones to figure that out.





	1. Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to a short, cute story, I said. Maybe like seven chapters, I said. One year and 50k later, I am FINALLY finished and super excited to share it all with you! 
> 
> Also ages  
> Allura, Shiro: seniors, 18  
> Keith, Hunk: sophomores, 16  
> Lance: sophomore, 15  
> Pidge: sophomore, 14 (she skipped a grade)

**To: Takashit**

I hate chemistry

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I thought you liked chemistry?

**To: Takashit**

what

No.

Chemistry is the worst

It’s just a bunch of messing around with made up

numbers in made up units into DIFFERENT made

up units because some idiots couldn’t just pick ONE

…

And lance isn’t here

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

 Oooooh

laaannnccee~

**To: Takashit**

shut up shiro

aren’t you supposed to be in class

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

PE

Apparently our school’s idea of ‘accessibility’

is just excusing me out of everything

**To: Takashit**

that sucks

 

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

yeah

The school doesn’t want to be responsible for

me getting hurt or messing up my prosthetic

So no basketball :(

**To: Takashit**

you can play basketball with one arm

i know because ive seen you do it

theyre being idiots

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

thanks for that

But yeah not much I can do

**To: Takashi**

I could come down and beat Iverson up

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Keith

please don’t take this the wrong way

because I appreciate the offer, but…

NO

Also YOU have class. pay attention

**To: Takashit**

I never pay attention in chemistry

most the time lance is just annoying me

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

don’t you have a crush on lance?

**To: Takashit**

Those feelings are

…not mutually exclusive

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

**To: Takashit**

Shiro?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

This is Plaxum. I had to answer for Shiro

because he started laughing so hard he fell off

the bench and now he can’t stop.

**To: Takashit**

Dear Shiro

You are an idiot.

Keith

***

“Heeyyy.” Lance slid into his seat in the back of chemistry only fourteen minutes late. Montgomery gave him the stink eye from where she was lecturing at the whiteboard, and Lance shot her a winning smile back. Or—it was supposed to be winning. Someday, it would work. Lance was sure of it.

“I hate chemistry,” said Lance’s lab partner and the unintentional reason Lance was late: Keith Kogane.

(Today was a The Day. Lance was finally going to do it. He just…needed Hunk to give him a pep talk that lasted a good ten minutes into the start of class. Hunk, the lucky bugger, had this period off).

“Aw, that’s too bad,” cooed Lance. “Because we have so much between us.”

Keith’s dark eyebrows popped up. “What? Did we have homework?”

See, this, _this_ right here was why it had taken Lance so long to work up to work up the courage to confess. It was impossible to tell if Keith was intentionally dense, that socially oblivious, or just so _not_ interested that the possibility didn’t even occur to him.

Quick question, Lance: why did you choose someone this clueless to have a MASSIVE crush on?

Good question, Lance. I have no freakin’ clue.

“No, no!” Lance flapped his hands rapidly at Keith. “I was just making a joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Keith went back to scowling at his phone. Though not his angry scowl. Lance thought it was more his I’m-actually-amused-but-I-have-to-keep-up-my-emo-tough-guy-reputation-too-much-to-admit-I’m-having-fun scowl.

What? Lance paid a _lot_ of attention to Keith.

At first, it had been a pure strategy thing. Keith just seemed to think he was too good for everything, and Lance was determined to disprove that—namely, by beating Keith in every possible way. Keith had more than risen to the challenge, and for a good month Lance and Keith were at _war_ , snapping and snarking at each other, throwing insults, gloating, racing to see who could finish the labs first, everything. After several near disasters, numerous exchanged insults, and one pair of Lance’s pants that weren’t  _supposed_ to be distressed but definitely looked like that now, they finally figured out they made a better team than rivals. They still challenged each other and got too competitive and, yeah, traded insults, but they were friends now.

And then Lance had to go and develop this stupid crush.

Thing was, sometimes Keith’s eyes would linger just a little too long or his face would soften when he smiled, and Lance _didn’t think this was one-sided_.

So Lance was going to do it. He was going to ask Keith out because Lance was beautiful and confident and definitely wouldn’t mess this up so long as he didn’t give in to his ridiculous attempts at flirting.

(What can he say? Hunk’s pep talks were nothing if not honest.)

The bell rang, and Lance grabbed the back of Keith’s jacket to stop him from doing that thing were he freaking _apparated_ out of the classroom as soon as class was over. This resulted in Keith elbowing Lance in the ribs and a quick tussle wherein they both tried to get even from whatever minor inconvenience the other had offered. However, the end result was that they were alone in the classroom after everyone else had left, so Lance straightened and said,

“Hey. Wanna go out sometime?”

“No,” said Keith.

Lance winced like one of Keith’s elbow jabs had actually hit. While he unsuccessfully tried to get his voice back, Keith’s eyes had gone wide.

“Wait. No! I mean—!”

“It’s okay if you aren’t interested, dude,” said Lance, trying to inject some sincerity into his words when mostly all he felt was hollow.

“No no no! It’s not—” Keith flapped his hands really hard. “It-It’s my foster parents! They’re, uh, really strict.”

Lance sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. Are they not okay with—?”

“NO!” squeaked Keith. “I mean—Not that! Uh, it’s just…a… really weird rule. Yeah. It’s really weird. But, um, I can’t date unless… Shiro, their kid, dates someone, too. So…yeah.”

“Oh,” said Lance.

“Yeah.” Keith shrugged awkwardly and stared at his feet. “Um. Sorry.”

Lance flapped his hands in Keith’s face. “No. No sorry. It’s not your fault. I get it.” Wow, he looked like an _idiot._ Lance quickly shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Uh, we’re still friends, though?”

Keith smiled up at Lance through his bangs. Ouch. _Cute_. “Yeah.”

“Oh-kay. Coolio.” Lance patted Keith awkwardly on the shoulder and then hightailed it the heck out of there.

***

“So how’d it go?”

Hunk and Pidge were leaning against the green Subaru affectionately named Gurgi, waiting for Matt to come out. Technically, it was Matt’s car, but Hunk was the only one trusted to drive it. Lance wasn’t entirely sure, but rumor on the street was that Pidge took the short drive from Hunk’s house to the Holts because, despite not even having her learners permit yet because she was considered the more responsible driver. Which implied _nothing_ about how safe a driver Pidge was and instead just drove home how _un-_ safe Matt was.

Lance slumped dramatically against the car and buried his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “Hrrrggggh.”

“Oh. That bad, huh?” Hunk patted him sympathetically on the head because he was the nice friend.

“It’s couldn’t be that bad,” said Pidge because she was _not_ the nice friend. “He’s not wailing about how his life is over or that he’ll be alone forever.”

“Or maybe he just actually got his heart broken this time.”  

Okay, so maybe Hunk wasn’t so nice either.

“Guys!” cried Lance. “I am having a _crisis._ A little sympathy would be nice here.”

Pidge climbed up onto the roof the car to pat Lance patronizingly on the head. “There, there, you poor baby.”

Lance glared at her. “That’s not how sympathy works, Pigeon.” Pidge opened her mouth to argue, but Lance cut her off with a loud, “ANYWAY. If either of you actually CARED about me, you would have asked, ‘What is wrong, our awesome and handsome friend Lance who we would never make fun of in any way?’ and I would say, ‘Oh, nothing, just that I finally asked Keith out and he said he couldn’t date unless his foster brother dated, too so, like, nothing big except that I’m condemned to pining DOOM.’”

“You actually did it!” cheered Hunk, squeezing the life out of Lance in a hug at the same time Pidge said, “He said _what_?”

“Apparently he can’t date unless Shiro does?” said Lance rubbing his ribs. “Some sort of rule with his foster parents.”

Hunk frowned. “That sounds really…”

“Easy to cheat?” suggested Pidge. “All we have to do is get Shiro a date. Should be easy. Shiro’s hot.”

Lance groaned and dropped his face onto the frame of the car.

“I was going to say weird,” said Hunk. “Like, that’s a _really_ weird rule. Are you sure you heard him right?”

“ _Yes!_ ” said Lance. “And you’re missing the point. It’s _Shiro._ ”

Both Hunk and Pidge blinked balefully at him. Lance flung both his hands into the air.

“When was the last time Shiro went on a date? Ever? He _doesn’t_.”

“Oh. Huh. Yeah, Shiro hasn’t really been the type of guy interested in romance,” said Hunk.

“See?” cried Lance. “I’m _doomed._ ”

Hunk shrugged. “Maybe he just hasn’t really had time with, you know, being captain of like _everything_. Maybe he just needs someone to reach out to him.”

“Like he doesn’t have that already?” snapped Lance. “He's been crowned at homecoming _three times,_ Hunk. He’s not exactly lacking in possibilities here.”

“We could make him a robot date,” offered Pidge. When the other two just stared at her: “Well, if the human options aren’t working.” She shrugged. “ _I’d_ date a robot.”

“Ignoring Pidge’s unnatural attraction to all thing robotic and digital—”

“Hey! I’d date an analog robot too!”

Lance sent her a dead look. “I don’t even know what that means. And we still don’t have a solution to my crisis.”

“We could try making fake social media accounts—”

“What about Allura?” interrupted Hunk.

Lance turned to Hunk. “Huh?”

“You’re cousin. Allura. Why not get her to date Shiro?”

“Um. Why her?” said Lance.

Hunk shrugged, but he was gathering his hands in front of his chest, a sure sign he was getting excited. “Well, they’re both these really driven, like, scarily competent people who are sort of intimidating but also unfairly nice? Also, they just look really good together? Think about it! They could be a really cute couple!”

“Okay,” said Pidge. “Back to my robot idea…”

“No. No, I like this,” said Lance, waggling his finger at Hunk. “You might be onto something. We get _Allura_ to date Shiro. She’s like a goddess! This—This could work.”

“Really?” said Pidge. “Are we even sure Shiro is straight?”

“We can check,” said Hunk. “We’re going to have go through all his stuff anyway just to give Allura the best chance.”

Pidge nodded, pulling out her phone. “Okay. Hacking into his social media and gathering intel now. If there’s any chance Shiro is attracted to women, we’re going to make this work.”

Lance leaned against the sun-warmed car. He really had the best friends in the world.

***

**To: Takashit**

hey, ur not planning on dating anyone right?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

um no?

**To: Takashit**

ok

good

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

???

Keith?

…

glad my lack of a love life pleases you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about Shiro: Pidge is right. Shiro’s not straight. He’s bi. And that will come up. But more important to this story, Shiro is a guy who just hasn’t experienced many crushes and is generally baffled by the amount of drama they cause in his friends’ and peers’ lives.
> 
> He has no idea what’s about to hit him.


	2. Strike

Allura loved her aunt’s family. Really! They were all very sweet and nice—and loud and loving and chaotic, but that was good. Mostly. It just wasn’t enough to make her stop missing England and wishing…

Well, wishing for things she couldn’t have.

Allura shucked off her backpack and started pulling out her various notes and papers from the day. It was her second year in the States, and by this time she had figured out at least most the differences between American high school and her boarding school in London. She made student body president, she was on the yearbook committee, and she was _involved_. Much better than last year. Even if she felt like sometimes people only went along with her because she was bossy and she didn’t show any weaknesses, not because anyone _liked_ her.

Dumb thoughts, Allura. She didn’t need to dwell on that. The fact that she hadn’t made any real friends outside of her cousin and his weird circle didn’t matter. 

Speak of the devil—the front door slammed, followed by a cacophony of voices that meant Lance, and probably his friends too, were home. Allura considered going down to join them, but Lance’s group was so tight knit, breaking in was often difficult. Allura settled for beginning her calculus homework instead.

Except she shouldn’t have bothered. Because no sooner had she pulled out her book than the door to her room burst open and Lance tumbled in.

“Allura! Most precious and lovely of my pseudo-siblings!”

“Hey!” said Pidge behind him.

Lance made shushing gestures at her before belly flopping onto Allura’s bed, stretching his fingers out, just brushing Allura’s knees. “Allura. Goddess. Princess. Queen of my heart.”

Allura flicked Lance’s ear, fighting down a grin. “What do you want?”

“Ow!” Lance rolled over, pressing his palm to his heart. “You think I’m only flattering you because I _want_ something?”

“Do you?” said Allura.

Lance sat up. He only _just_ managed not to look sheepish. “Yeah, actually. I need your help.”

Allura pushed her book back into her backpack and arranged herself so she was sitting properly, cross-legged on her bed. She probably should know better than to get involved in whatever this was, but…

It was kind of nice to feel wanted.

“What do you need?”

Lance looked at her very seriously. “I need you to date Shiro.”

That took a good minute to process.

“Shiro? As in debate team Shiro?”

“Debate team Shiro. Mathletes Shiro. NHS Shiro. Robotics club Shiro,” Pidge listed off. “Used to be soccer Shiro. Basketball Shiro. Track team Shiro.”

“Actually, he might still make the track team.” Lance’s other friend, Hunk, also wandered it. “They’re not in season right now.”

“Okay, possibly track team Shiro,” agreed Pidge.

Yeah, because all that was needed to narrow down the one guy in the school who went by the name ‘Shiro.’

Allura’s eyebrows pulled together. “Why do I need to date Shiro?”

Lance dropped dramatically across her bed again. “Because that’s the only way I can date his foster brother Keith!”

That…

“What.”

“Keith isn’t allowed to date unless Shiro does, but Shiro hasn’t seemed interested in dating so we need someone to convince him to change his mind,” summarized Pidge.

“Also, you’d make a cute couple,” added Hunk.

Allura felt her cheeks flaming. Luckily, Lance took the attention away from her by flailing his feet wildly.

“True, but irrelevant. My lovelife is _ruined_ because of Shiro’s perpetual singleness! I need you to fix it!”

Allura pursed her lips. “What if I don’t want to date Shiro?”

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge shared a quick, calculating look.

“It would be kind of hard to do,” said Hunk sympathetically. “I get why you might not want to.”

Pidge nodded as well. “If she can’t, we could—”

Competition flamed in Allura’s chest. “I never said I couldn’t!”

Lance latched on, smiling none too innocently at her. “It’s okay to say you don’t think you could. Shiro’s kind of in a league of his own—”

“Oh, I could absolutely date Shiro,” growled Allura. “I could charm the pants off of him!”

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk burst out laughing. Allura curled her hands into fists between her thighs. She knew to a certain degree she’d been had, but she refused to back down. Allura Altea did _not_ lose.

“Awesome,” said Lance once he’s sobered up a bit. He flopped across the bed to fling his arms around Allura’s neck. “Thank you, bestest cousin.”

Allura huffed and flicked Lance’s ear again because she could.

Pidge jumped off the desk where she’d been perched. “Okay, good. Operation: Save Ourselves from Lance’s Dramatics is a go.”

“Hey!”

“Hm. Yes, I like it, but don’t you think the name is a bit of a mouthful? I was thinking something a little more concise—”

“Call it whatever you want,” said Allura. “But GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

***

By the time school rolled around the next day, Allura was filled with icy determination. Lance offered to show her some “smooth moves” to help her out, but Allura had declined. Or, rather, she had pinched him under than arm and sent him packing for class.

“Don’t mess this up!” Lance shouted as he ran for class (only to inevitably be late anyway). “My love life depends on you!”

Allura flipped him the bird and headed for her own class. Lance was being ridiculous. She totally had this.

Except it took her about five seconds into her AP Physics class to realize that taking a challenge from her annoying cousin was a whole lot easier than actually _talking_ to Shiro—Or, as certain corners of Allura’s notebook that were _never_ going to see the light of day said: _Takashi Shirogane <3_

Shiro hadn’t been at school last year, and to tell the truth, the first time she had seen him she had thought he was something a dude bro. What with his undercut and funky black and white hair and those _shoulders._ (Seriously, weren’t teenaged boys supposed to go through the awkward, newborn colt phase in high school? Did he just _skip_ that?). That opinion lasted about as long it took for Shiro to slide up to Matt Holt, Garrison High’s self-proclaimed king nerd, and start in on an almost embarrassingly enthusiastic conversation about space travel. After that, it was clear that Shiro was nothing more than a huge dork, if an incredibly attractive one.

Not that that _meant_ anything. Anyone with eyes knew Shiro was attractive.

Still didn’t make talking to Shiro _easy._ Shiro was just exactly the opposite of what you’d expect in high school: extremely smart but not socially awkward, good-looking but not self-absorbed, popular just because he was _nice_. And truth was, Allura desperately wanted him to think she was just like that too. The main difference being, of course, Allura wasn’t quite all that where Shiro clearly _was_.

Which may explain why, though she had spoken to Shiro plenty of times, she had never managed a real _conversation._ And the crush thing just made everything worse.

Except Allura refused to acknowledge there was a crush thing. So there.

So while Mr. Harris drew a lot of inclined planes on the board and talked about “breaking up the gravitational vector,” Allura, who would normally be taking meticulous notes, was steeling her nerves. She could look up the lecture online later. She had to face Shiro _now._

As soon as bell rang, Allura crammed her notebook into her bag and hurried back to Shiro’s desk. He saved her the difficulty of figuring how to start the conversation by looking up and smiling.

“Hey, Allura!”

“Hi, Shiro.”

See, she had this. This was going great. She—

—hadn’t thought of what to do from here.

Crap. _Crap!_

“Um…?” said Shiro, looking at her expectantly.

Think, Allura! Think!

“I—” Allura noticed he was packing up his things. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” snapped Shiro a bit gruffly, and Allura retracted her helpful hand like she’d been burned.

"Oh. Sorry. I—”

Shiro shook his head, shoulders hunched in and ears red. “No. Sorry. You’re fine.”

Allura folded her hands in front of her. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Shiro sent to a smile though it was a little more strained than in had been a few moments ago. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just—this is something I don’t need help with.”

Shiro waved his right hand—the one that wasn’t actually a hand at all but a silver and black prosthetic.

“Oh! OH! Sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” said Shiro, his smile softening in the face of Allura’s embarrassment. “I just like to do the things that I can without help.”

“Oh! Of course. That makes perfect sense.” Allura got not wanting to depend on others. Maybe too much. “I apologize for implying—”

“You didn’t,” assured Shiro. “I’m just touchy about it. You were being nice.” He started loading his things into his backpack—on his own. Though his prosthetic moved slightly differently from his natural hand, it was impressively agile. Not for the first time, Allura wondered how he’d gotten it, but it seemed incredibly rude to ask.

Shiro noticed her still hovering and raised his eyebrows. “So, um…?”

“I wasn’t coming over just to patronize you!” she blurted out. “I-I wanted to talk to you.”

"Oh?”

"Yeah! I…” Allura scrambled to think of something to say that wasn’t about his arm or _You’re hot!_ “I want to ask you about…debate team!”

Shiro straightened, looking significantly happier. His eyes brightened. “Really? Are you thinking of joining?”

“I…well…maybe?”

Shiro grinned at her. “You should try it out! I think you’d be really good at it.”

Allura thanked her dark skin for hiding her blush. “You think so?”

Hey, public speaking and arguing with people—that’s kind of your thing, right?” grinned Shiro.

Allura’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be offended or not.”

Shiro laughed. “It’s a good thing!”

“Arguing isn’t!” argued Allura.

Shiro started laughing again. With a bit of one-handed maneuvering, he swung his backpack onto his shoulders. “I mean it, though. You’d be good at it. We meet after school on Thursdays if you want to check it out.”

“I…will consider it.” Honestly, debate team _did_ sound kind of fun. And if Shiro thought she was good at it—!

“Cool.” Shiro sent her one of his casually stunning smiles that made Allura’s fingertips tingly despite knowing he sent the exact same smile at everyone. “Well, I’ll see you—”

“Wait!” cried Allura, remembering her deal with Lance. “I, um, also wanted to know… how you feel about dates?”

How you feel about dates? _Seriously_? What was she, an alien making first contact with Earth?

“Huh?” said Shiro.

“I was curious?” said Allura, smiling broadly and doing her best to look innocent and not at all like she was internally freaking out.

Shiro scrubbed the back on his neck. “You mean like in general or personally?”

“Both?” said Allura.

“Uh, I guess dates are fine?” said Shiro, thankfully not looking offended but certainly confused. “I mean, I can see how they’d be fun, but I’m not sure I feel the draw.”

“What do you mean?”

Shiro shrugged. “I donno. Just dating seems like a lot of drama most the time, especially in high school. I don’t really see the point.”

“Oh. I see. That makes sense I suppose.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

 Allura blushed. “No! Not all!”

Shiro studied her, eyebrows furrowing. “You weren’t…?”

“Oh no! No no no! Nope! Just, uh, wondering. And you seemed like a good person to ask! That’s all.”

“ _O_ -kay,” said Shiro, drawing the syllables out into two words. He shifted his backpack on his shoulder. “Well, if that’s all, I should probably get to class.”

“Of course. Me too.” Allura plastered on the brightest, most winsome smile she could muster. “Have a good day, Shiro.”

Shiro’s smile softened into something warmer and more genuine. “You too. See you around, Allura!” Waving cheerfully, he jogged off to find his friends.

Allura stayed frozen for another thirty seconds after he’d left, heart speeding and cheeks warm. Then she realized what she was doing and shook herself for behaving like an idiot.

Allura did not go directly to her next class after leaving the classroom, however. Instead, she darted into a secluded corner and pulled out her phone.

“Lance…”

Allura closed her eyes and groaned.

“I think I’m going to need that help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my pet peeves of High School AUs is when Shiro and/or Allura act like they're in their mid 40s because apparently "teenager" and "stressed about their 401k" are the only two levels of maturity. Like, no thank you muchly. Shiro and Allura are teenagers in this AU, so they are going to act like teenagers darn it. 
> 
> ...which means we're going to see them make some frankly ridiculous choices. I'm looking forward to it :)


	3. Set

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

You ok? You seemed quiet yesterday

**To: Takashit**

fine

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Fine like that time you decided to try

longboarding behind a motorcycle and

ended up with horrific road rash in a ditch?

**To: Takashit**

shiro

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

It’s a valid question

**To: Takashit**

im FINE

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I’m going to take that as a no then

***

“My dear friends, family, associates, bosom buddies—”

“Can we just get on with this, Lance?” said Pidge.

Lance sent her a dirty look. “As I was _saying—_ ”

“Who wants fresh muffins?”

“Hunk!” cried Lance. “Why have you _betrayed_ me?!”

“Oh, were you actually going to get to the point?” said Hunk, carrying in a plate of still steaming muffins and placing them onto the coffee table. “Allura, yes, you can eat them in the living room,” he assured as Pidge lunged for a muffin and stuffed it in her mouth. “I promise Gran doesn’t mind.”

Lance’s mouth was watering, but he was _also_ intent on sulking, so he dredged up all his willpower to resist diving for the muffins with the rest. “We sort of have a situation here! And Hunk, you’re distracting us.”

Hunk shoved a muffin into Lance’s chest. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

“Thanks, Remus Lupin,” grumbled Lance sulkily nibbling at his muffin. Hey, Hunk’s muffins were not to be ignored.

“Uhts un itchun?” said Pidge. Hunk, Lance, and Allura all looked at her unimpressed until she rolled her eyes and swallowed the whole muffin she had shoved into her mouth.

“Ugh. What’s the situation? Why’s Lance freaking out?”

“It’s obvious, right?” said Hunk. “It’s Keith.”

“Again,” Pidge not-mumbled.

“Excuse you! I freak out about more than just Keith!” objected Lance.

“But it _is_ Keith this time,” said Allura.

Lance waggled his finger at her. “No no no! This is NOT about Keith. It’s about Shiro!”

“And the date thing?” Hunk guessed.

Lance huffed and sighed dramatically.

Pidge snickered. “Which brings us back to Keith.”

“Fine. Fine. Make fun of me in my time of need!” complained Lance.

“Sometimes I wonder how I’m related to you,” said Allura as she daintily selected her next muffin.

“We’re both beautiful.”

“Eh. Debatable,” said Pidge.

“Back to the dating thing,” interrupted Hunk while Lance squawked. “Is there a problem with Shiro?”

Allura sighed, and Lance actually felt kind of bad for her right then. “I talked to him today. And he pretty much said he had no intention of dating.”

“Welp, that’s a dud,” said Pidge. “I still think Hunk and I could build a robot—”

“No. No robots,” snapped Lance. “And we’re not giving up. We just have to figure out Shiro’s secret weakness. He has to have, like, an Achilles ankle.”

“You mean heel,” said Pidge.

“It’s the same thing!”

“Uh, no. It’s really not.”

“IDEA!” shouted Hunk, and everyone looked at where he was now banishing a muffin. “So. Pidge already hacked Shiro’s social media accounts, but we didn’t really get much because apparently Shiro isn’t really big on that.”

“True,” interrupted Allura. “His instragram is mostly just pictures of his cat and dorky photos of his brother.”

“Keith’s on Shiro’s instragram?!” cried Lance, lunching at Allura. “And you didn’t TELL ME??”

Allura raised her eyebrows. “I assumed you could discover that for yourself.”

“No, I didn’t! Keith practically swore he had no presence on the internet!”

“Lies,” said Pidge.

“True,” added Hunk. “That’s pretty much a guarantee that he has a tumblr that’s like edgelord37 or something.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” groaned Lance. Only in part because, yeah, of course they were right and he should have thought of that earlier.

But also, he was _dying_ to see what blackmail-worthy photos Shiro had up of Keith.

“Hunk, I believe you had an idea,” said Allura.

“Oh yeah. So the point of that was, we clearly don’t know enough about Shiro through his public persona.”

“He’s unreadable,” said Lance. “Like a ninja.”

Allura frowned. “I don’t think…?”

“Ignore him,” suggested Pidge. “I do. Back to Hunk?”

“Yes. So clearly what we need to do is to get to know Shiro more personally.”

Pidge lit up with unholy and terrifying enthusiasm. “Surveillance!”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” cried Lance. “We are not stalking Shiro.”

Allura immediately went red. “Absolutely not.”

Pidge waved her hand. “Of course we aren’t. We’ll just poke around a little.” She kicked her legs suddenly, excited. “OHMIGOSH! Hunk, we can use Rover!”

Hunk’s eyes lit up. “You got the software to run?”

“Yeah. Matt helped.” Pidge grinned at Lance and Allura, bright and sharp-toothed. “My time has come.”

Lance thunked his head against the back of Hunk’s couch. “Okay. So I guess we’re planning a home invasion.”

“Yes!” cried Pidge, holding up her hand for a high five and deflating slightly when no one met her. Hunk took pity and completed it.

“Pidge, you are headed to become a very scary person,” said Lance.

Pidge shrugged. “Well, obviously.”

“Just to be clear,” said Allura, folding her hands in front of her in what Lance liked to call ‘princess pose.’ “You are planning to…break into Shiro’s things? His house?”

“Nothing serious,” said Pidge.

“Just poke around a little,” said Hunk. “We won’t do anything alarming. We just need a better idea of Shiro.”

“Who is he under the cool, smooth mask,” added Lance.

 Allura looked them all over like she was daring them to admit this was a very poorly done joke. When no one broke, she said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Well, do you have a better one?” said Lance.

Allura seemed to consider that for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and selected another muffin.

Lance grinned. “Looks like it’s a go then.”

***

Keith was fine. Keith was chill. Keith was…totally a disaster. But he was _fine._ He’d sort of totally butchered his last conversation with Lance and had had vivid nightmares where Lance alternately transformed into a giant lizard or laughed really rudely at him for believing he’d want to go out with him. Also, Keith was pretty sure at one point his mother turned out to be an purple eight-foot tall alien, but that was an issue for another time. The point was, yes, Keith was a mess, but he was still pretty sure he could handle this. All he had to do is make sure that Shiro didn’t date (which, seeing as Shiro’s interest in romance began and ended in cheesy romantic comedies, shouldn’t be hard), and he could keep his relationship with Lance comfortably where he wanted it—painfully pining for the other boy but with no chance of massively screwing it all up by, say, accidentally turning down a date he really wanted to go on.

See? Keith had this down. This was the very definition of fine.

The only problem with this whole plan was that Keith forgot that it included _Lance_. And, as it turned out, Lance really wasn’t on board with this ignoring any and all feelings plan at all.

Start of passing period, someone jumped his on back and grabbed him around the neck. Keith cussed them out and immediately swung an elbow.

“OW! Hey! Keith, chill out!”

Oh. It was Lance. A full body shiver tried to travel from his shoulders to his toes, and Keith locked up. That was _Lance_ draped over his back. He had no doubt every place Lance touched was bright red. Staying still was pure self-preservation.

“What do you want?” snapped Keith because that was what Keith did when he didn’t know what to do. Shiro had been trying to teach him how to socialize better, really, but Keith was a poor student.

Luckily, Lance was either stupid enough or generous enough (Keith’s money was on the former) to never be put off by Keith’s aggressive ineptitude.

It was one of the things Keith really liked at about Lance, actually.

“Hey, don’t get your mullet all in a knot,” said Lance, tugging on the offending hairstyle. Keith smacked him in the stomach in retaliation. “I’m working on a solution to our dating problem.”

Keith sort of blinked and decided the best course of action was to fold his arms aggressively over his chest with Lance still dangling off him. “Huh?” he said as dispassionately as possible.

“Ugh! You’re so—!” Lance snapped his fingers in the air, apparently failing come up what Keith was so much.

“Yeah?” challenged Keith.

“Yeah! Exactly!” cried Lance.

“You don’t make any sense.”

Lance flapped his hands rapidly and made a sound like “Phlllibipt.” “Keith, Keith, Keith. My man. My buddy.”

“You don’t actually know where you’re going with this, do you?”

“When in doubt, distract.”

“That explains so much of your personality,” drawled Keith, trying his best to hide the fact he was smiling.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have one,” sang Lance.

“You’re the one who wanted to date me,” said Keith.

Wait! No! He wasn’t supposed to mention that. Crap. What happened to his plan?!

Lance, however, seemed oblivious to Keith’s internal freak out and merely grinned. “Yeah, about that—”

Keith’s stomach turned to ice.

“—We’ve kind of got a _situation_ —”

Still ice. Cold leaking to his chest now.

“—which goes by the name of your brother.”

Yep, this was—Wait. Huh?

“Shiro isn’t my brother,” said Keith.

“Foster brother, live in friend, whatever you want to call it.” Lance flapped his hand. “Point is he apparently has _no_ interest in dating.”

Well, Keith could have told you that.

Somehow, Keith got the feeling he should be doing more to contribute to this conversation, so he said, “Yeah. It kind of sucks.”

“Uh, it WOULD suck, except we’re going to change that, so exactly no sucking going on here.”

Keith’s mind went in entirely the wrong direction.

Lance noticed. Unfortunately, he seemed to completely misinterpret it. He—finally—untangled himself from around Keith’s back and stepped away, hands shoved in his jacket pockets and eyes on the ground. “Um. I mean, unless you don’t want to…”

Lance should never _ever_ look dejected like that.

“Hey.” Keith stepped forward and placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder—the one pro-social behavior Keith knew he had because it was one he had stolen from Shiro.

“I do want to.” And Keith offered a smile.

Lance immediately brightened; his whole face lit up.

Cute.

No! Bad Keith. He did _not_ just think Lance was cute. That was crossing a line too far.

Except now Lance was smiling, and it was… Cute.

Damnit.

“All right!” Lance went right back at his usual enthusiasm. “So in order to get this ball rolling, we’ve planned some recon—”

“We?” interrupted Keith. “Who’s _we_?”

“Me, Hunk, and Pidge. Oh, and Allura. She’s in on it, too. Shiro’s singledom streak is about to END.”

Somewhere in the way back of Keith’s head was a voice that sounded vaguely like Shiro saying that this situation was getting rapidly out of hand and there was a simple solution if Keith just took a step back and thought about it.

Keith considered.

Nope. Keith’s got nothing.

“What’s your plan?”

Lance beamed. “So we—” The bell signaling the start of class rang, and Lance cut off with a swear. Keith hadn’t even noticed they were the only two left in the hallway. “Okay, I’ve got to go before Iverson has my hide, but—hold on—just—Here.“ Lance shoved a blue notebook open to a page with a lot of messy scribbling and poor doodles of what might have been a cat. “Study that. And—” Lance swung his backpack back onto his shoulders and started running to class, shouting, “We’ll work out the details later. I’ll catch you at lunch!”

And so Keith was left in the deserted hallway, late for class, with a notebook from his crush in his hands and the outlines for a plot to take over his best friend’s love life.

On the other hand, Lance didn’t hate him. In fact, Lance—astoundingly—still wanted to date him.

On the whole, Keith decided things weren’t so bad.

***

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Funny story

I just got this really strong feeling like Keith

is making a terrible decision right now and

my life is about to get a lot harder than it needs

to be because of it. But that’s totally crazy right?

…

Right?!


	4. Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invasion of Shiro's privacy begins. No one is safe.

Lance crouched down, lowering his super official, super fancy binoculars from his face (They were actually periwinkle blue Frozen binoculars with a frost-flinging Elsa on the side, but hey—when you had little sisters, you made do with what you had). “Okay. Visual on target located. Operative Red in action. Target and Operative approaching the Princess.”

“Setting up tracker now,” said Pidge. “And…I’m in.”

“Um, am I the only one to point out that we are _sitting_ _in plain sight outside our high school_?” said Hunk. “And Pidge, your tracker is literally just using Find My Friends on Allura’s phone.”

Pidge shrugged. “No need to re-invent the wheel.”

“Genius,” said Lance, offering Pidge a high five that she enthusiastically completely. He pulled up his Frozen binoculars again. “All right. Zooming in on the target—”

“Lance, you can easily see them from here.”

“USING MY SOPHISTICATED SPY EQUIPMENT—”

“They’re not even on the other side of the parking lot.”

Lance dropped his binoculars around his neck to aggressively clear his throat at Hunk. “Do you _mind_?”

“Oh, look. They’re getting in Shiro’s car,” said Pidge.

Sure enough, Keith, Shiro, and Allura were getting into Shiro’s car—notable because despite being an otherwise black sedan, the driver’s side door was a dusty brown with a red racing stripe for some unknown reason. It was impossible to really tell what was going on from here, but Lance would recognize that awkward tilt of Keith’s shoulders anywhere.

On second thought, maybe Keith wasn’t the best one to put on this side of the mission.

…Oh well. Too late now. Lance trusted Allura to be able to make up for whatever social graces Keith lacked.

“They’re on their way!” Lance stuffed his binoculars into his backpack and crouched into a sprinter’s start position. “Okay team. We’ve got two hours starting… _NOW!_ ” With that, Lance launched into a full out sprint, closely followed by Pidge.

“Are we really—? Aw man.”

“C’mon, Hunk! You’re our ride!”

“I don’t have a car,” reminded Hunk as he jogged to catch up with them.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already stolen Matt’s keys,” said Pidge with a wicked grin. Hunk groaned.

“This is going to end with us all in jail, isn’t it?”

Lance whooped and punched the air. “Victory or death!”

***

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith caught sight of Lance and his friends bolting across the parking lot, Lance’s limbs flailing in all their ungainly glory. They looked like idiots, and Keith would give quite a lot to be running with them instead of stuck here, in the Most Awkward Car Ride Ever.

Perhaps it would be less awkward if anyone them actually _wanted_ to be here. As it stood, Keith was enduring this partially because of his own social blunders but mostly because his brained tended to short out when confronted with anything related to Lance. Allura was here because Lance had somehow roped her into all this (“The homecoming decorations are going to be excellent this year,” she had said the one time Keith talked to her with a terrifying shark-toothed smile). And Shiro…

“Keith has a _friend?_ ”

“What? No, I don’t!”

“But you want to hang out. With a person. That’s called being friends, Keith.”

“I—Look, Lance is making me—”

“Keith has TWO friends!?”

“NO! I—Shiro! Stop it! Shiro, get off me!”

“I’m so proud of you!”

“I can’t _breathe_.”

“Keith is learning how to socialize with other human beings! I think I’m tearing up!”

“I’m not—Shiro—STOP HUGGING ME YOU IDIOT!”

So yeah. That happened. Now, whether it was to aggressively encourage Keith’s social life or to call Keith’s bluff (Keith would be willing to bet on either option really), Shiro was dead set on coming. Keith figured Shiro would go along with it even if Keith were introducing him to the mafia just to make a point about Keith’s need for friendship.

Keith watched with some longing as the back of Lance’s head disappeared and the Most Awkward Car Ride continued on.

Finally, Shiro decided to break the uncomfortable silence. “So, uh, where are we going?”

“The mall,” said Allura primly.

Clearly surprised, Shiro met Keith’s eyes through the rearview mirror, and Keith did his best to look back like this wasn’t completely out of character for him. It wasn’t. Was it? Well, it had been Lance’s idea, and getting suckered into Lance’s dumb ideas at the least was _very_ in character for Keith.

Shiro somehow managed to communicate “I don’t know what’s going on, but I trust you so I’m going to go along with it” with a single look to the rearview mirror. Then he turned to Allura and asked her something about their physics class in an attempt to convert the Most Awkward Car Ride Ever into the Only Moderately Uncomfortable Car Ride of This Week.

Really, Shiro was too good for all of them.

***

Hunk pulled the car against the curb and took the keys out of the ignition. “Okay, are we sure that’s Shiro’s house?” he said, nodding to the silvered-grey house kitty corner to their street.

“My sources are sound,” said Pidge confidently.

“Still not going to tell us _what_ your sources are?” said Lance.

“Nope,” said Pidge. She climbed over the back seat, rolling into the trunk in a way only possible because she was the size of a twelve year old. “Who’s going to help me set up Rover?”

The drone Pidge and Hunk had built from scratch was vaguely pyramid shaped, grey with light green accents. Hunk pulled it out the box they carried it in and went over it for last minute checks that all the wires were in the right place and the casing would stay together. Meanwhile, Pidge made herself a nest out of textbooks and her backpack, pulling out the laptop she and Matt had built one summer and configuring it to connect with Rover. Lance sat with his legs hanging out the back of the trunk, swinging them and adding helpful commentary.

“What do you think Shiro and Allura are up to right now? Do you think Keith is having fun? Do you think he’s thinking about me?”

“Lance.”

“Because, like, he doesn’t have to think about me all the time. Obviously. That’d be crazy. But given the situation, he would think about me, right?”

“ _Lance_.”

“I mean, what if he decides he would rather hang out with Shiro and Allura and doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore? What if he decides they’re better than me? Shiro is pretty much the coolest guy ever, and Allura is like an Athena-goddess—”

“Lance!”

“I can’t compete with that! What if he—”

“LANCE!” Hunk grabbed Lance by the shoulders and shook him—not violently but enough to really get his attention. “Deep breaths, Lance. Calm down. No need to go into Lance Crazy Land.”

“Yeah,” added Pidge. “If you were really that lame, how would you be hanging out with us?”

“Awww! You really do care!” Lance went to hug her, but at that moment, Rover turned on and flew up— straight into Lance’s face.

“Whoops,” said Pidge, deadpan.

Lance groaned and rubbed his nose. “You did that on purpose.”

Pidge didn’t deny it. She smirked as she said, “Rover’s up running now. I’ll fly him over to check on the Shiroganes. You two approach from this side.” She pulled up Google street view on her laptop and pointed to where she meant. “According to my sources, you can use this tree here to get into the second story window—”

“Seriously, who _are_ your sources?!”

“My SOURCE says the window should be unlocked. Drop in. Shiro’s room will be on the right. From there is up to you to determine what’s important. I’ll keep a look out from here, and let you know if you need to bail.”

“Are we sure the Shiroganes aren’t going to come home sometimes soon and call the cops on us?” said Hunk.

Lance sighed dramatically. “If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. But seriously? This was your idea!”

“Yes, I know that. I just want to point out, for the record, that there are a lot of holes in this plan.”

“And your point is?” said Lance.

Hunk sighed. “I’m coming.”

“Cool,” said Pidge. “Deploying Rover now. You two get to the tree. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“How?” asked Lance. “Oooo! Do you have super advanced communicators for us, too?”

“Yeah,” drawled Pidge. “Called your cell phone.”

***

Hunk would like to point out that this was, overall, a bad idea. Not that it was stopping him from doing it, but he felt it needed to be said: This was not a good idea.

Lance shimmied along a branch of the towering oak that reached to one of the upper story windows of the Shirogane’s house. He had already scampered up the tree itself more squirrel-like than anything, and then pestered Hunk incessantly until he, too, climbed up the tree. Now Hunk was clinging to the trunk, the ground a good fifteen feet below, and Hunk’s stomach turned uncomfortably every time he looked down. Watching Lance scoot along the increasingly skinny branch wasn’t doing Hunk’s stomach any favors either.

“Are you sure that branch can hold us?” he asked for the fifth time.

“ _Relax_ ,” said Lance in that tone that absolutely guaranteed that Lance hadn’t thoroughly thought out the consequences of his actions. “Pidge said we’re good.”

“We still don’t know where Pidge got her information,” Hunk pointed out.

Lance ignored him, shimmying further down the extremely sketchy-looking branch. “Almost…there…” The end of the branch bobbed worrying. Hunk closed his eyes, not willing to watch if his best friend plummeted to his death.

No. That was a bad thought. His gran was trying to help him stop his anxiety from jumping him to the worst-case scenario. Lance wouldn’t die. He’s just probably break a number of his bones and would have to be rushed to the emergency room after Pidge called 911 using Rover.

But what if Rover didn’t actually work with cellular interfaces? What if Pidge wasn’t watching? What if the cops came instead of an ambulance, and then Hunk had to explain the whole harebrained thing because Lance would be incoherent and—

“Got it!” cried Lance.

With a nasty screech, the window slid open. For a moment Hunk was absolutely certain this was where they were going to get caught. But seconds passed and no one seemed to notice the two teenagers who 100% should not be in the Shirogane’s tree. Lance scrambled through the window and turned around to wave frantically at Hunk.

“Come on! Before we get caught!”

Hunk looked skeptically at the branch he was supposed climb onto now. It was all very well and good for Lance, who resembled nothing so much as a toothpick, to shimmy across that to the window. Hunk had a much more intimate relationship with gravity.

Lance leaned out of the window, his expression softening slightly though not the manic light in his eyes. “You’re going to be fine. I promise. Pidge wouldn’t lead us to our deaths.”

Hunk swallowed a lot of comments on other ‘adventures’ Pidge had led them on. Rover appeared underneath the branch Hunk was sitting on, the green light at its front blinking slowly as if the chastise Hunk for his cowardice.

This was _such_ a bad idea.

“Oh  _fine_ ,” whined Hunk as he closed his eyes and scooted onto the death-trap branch.

“Um, you might want to go a little faster,” said Lance, a hint of nervousness in his voice. So much for “Pidge wouldn’t kill us.”

Hunk was almost tempted to climb back down the tree, except that scared him and looking down made him sick. So instead he screwed up his courage and shuffle-scooted down the branch.

Was that a cracking sound?

“You’re almost there!” called Lance, voice way too high to be comforting.

Something was definitely cracking.

Hunk started moving faster. His eyes were still squeezed shut. His brain helpfully supplied him the image of wood splitting like the slow-mo videos of a hydraulic press. Hunk nearly screamed when something grabbed his hands—only to realize it was Lance. Together with flailing limbs and a few choice swear words that Hunk’s grandmother wasn’t to know about, Hunk managed to get safely inside. Hunk turned to look back out the window. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the branch look significantly sadder than it had been. Shuddering, he slammed the window shut.

“Let’s never do that again.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” said Lance, but he looked distinctly pale under his tan. His pocket pinged, and he pulled out his phone. “Pidge says and I quote: ‘Get moving losers.’—losers spelled with a z—‘Rover’s battery won’t last forever.’ And then there’s an explosion emoji. Hunk, Rover isn’t going to explode if it runs out of juice, will it?”

“No,” said Hunk automatically. Although, with the position of the main power line, and they were having trouble with heating in the LEDs…

“…Maybe,” he admitted. “I mean, I don’t think it would explode exactly, but…”

“Well, great,” grumbled Lance, hands on his hips. “Couldn’t you build something that _doesn’t_ explode?”

“Hey! Rover’s still a prototype! There are bound to be some bugs.”

“Exploding robot aside, where do you think we are? Where did Pidge say to go for Shiro’s room?”

Hunk looked around. It was an almost generically plain bedroom. There was a bed with a red bedspread, sloppily made. One wall had a framed photo of a sunflower that didn’t fit with the rest of the room, and the others were completely bare. The closet was stocked with a number of mismatched hangers, but the only clothes inside were in two lopsided piles on the shelves. There was a chest of drawers that somehow gave off the vibe of being empty. Overall, the room hardly looked lived in. The only exception was the bedside table, which made up for the entire room by itself. It was an explosion of papers, hand outs, and random small objects, its original size expanded by a collection of textbooks and notebooks piled haphazardly on top of each other beside it.

“This must be Keith’s room,” said Lance, picking up one of the books and showing the insider cover to Hunk where _Keith Kogane_ was scratched in dark, spikey handwriting. “And—woah!” Lance tugged out some crumbled worksheet where in the margins was drawn a detailed sketch of a mountain cliff. “Do you think _Keith_ drew this?”

Lance’s eyes were bright and shiny in what Hunk had long since recognized as ‘Lance full infatuation mode’. While Lance thumbed through the book for more sketches—“This is incredible. Keith _never_ lets me see his drawings”—Hunk poked at the contents actually on top of the bedside table. There were a number of rocks with interesting colors or patterns, a couple of feathers, and even, hidden in some sort of paper nest, a blue-speckled egg shell.  

Hunk was just about to suggest they should probably go when he noticed something poking out from under Keith’s pillow. Lifting it, he found a massive hunting knife, hilt wrapped in ragged cloth, and an old photograph that was curling on the edges and water damaged in one corner. The picture showed a rugged-looking man and a small boy with missing front teeth. Hunk couldn’t exactly put his figure on why, but he was certain that boy was Keith. It was startling. The boy looked almost terrifyingly happy, mouth gaping and eyes nearly squeezed shut under messy black hair.

“What—Oh.”

Lance hooked his chin over Hunk’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the picture. “Wow. Keith looks really happy.”

“Yeah,” said Hunk. Hunk didn’t know Keith very well, but they had shared the same math class for the past three years. ‘Happy’ wasn’t the first word he associated with Keith. In fact, the best he could think of was more along the lines of ‘apathetically pleased.’ Made you wonder what happened to the delightedly messy boy in the picture.

Lance took the photo from Hunk to examine closer. “Who do you think—?”

The Imperial March startled blasting from Lance’s phone.

“What?” demanded Lance, putting the phone on speaker.

“ _LOOK TO YOUR LEFT, LOSERS!”_ shouted Pidge.

They looked and both yelled. Hunk stumbled into the bed and barely caught himself on the tangle of sheets.

“HOLY FLIBERTYGIBBET!” screamed Lance. “Pidge, what the hell?”

Rover was hovering in the open window like a triangular green eye of Sauron and equally as creepy.

“ _You are wasting time,_ ” said Pidge. “ _Shiro’s room is one over. Or did you decide to stalk Lance’s crush instead of the mission?_ ”

“Okay, why is it ‘information gathering’ if we look in Shiro’s stuff but ‘stalking’ if I do it for Keith?” complained Lance.

“ _Just get moving. You only have an hour left_.”

“Actually, that’s a good point,” said Hunk. “What exactly is the difference? I mean, is it the romantic connotation—?”

“ _Ethical quandaries later,_ ” said Pidge. “ _Get your butts moving now. I’m watching._ ”

With that, Rover blinked very, very slowly.

Lance visibly shuddered. “Okay, okay. We’re going.” He hit ‘end call’ and turned wide-eyed to Hunk. “Do you think maybe having Rover is giving Pidge too much power?”

Hunk stared at the space Rover had just vacated and shuddered. 

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses who Pidge's source is. Surprisingly, yes that DOES become a later plot point.
> 
> Next chapter we get to follow Keith and Allura!


	5. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura and Keith distract Shiro at the mall and may stumble upon some unexpected character development.

Allura was a nauseating bundle of nerves. As was quickly becoming a habit for her, she had once again ended up in a situation with Shiro that she had walked into with complete confidence only to realize she had no plan for once she actually got there. This time, she had been too busy focusing on what would come _after_ the recon mission and what plans she could make for homecoming now that she had a monopoly on Lance’s (surprisingly crafty) skills. It had completely slipped her mind that this plan required her to spend _two hours_ essentially alone with Shiro.

Well, not completely alone. Keith was there, too. But Keith was being completely silent, staring out the car window, so he wasn’t really doing much to count as company.

Allura wasn’t entirely certain why Lance liked Keith to be honest. Sure, Keith was good looking in a bad boy, ‘I don’t care about conforming to society’ kind of way. But he also seemed rather surly, and, well, Allura wasn’t judging, but she rather thought Lance would like someone a bit more…talkative? Nice? _Friendly?_ It just seemed a bit odd to Allura that her loud, social, and exuberant cousin would be attracted to someone who seemed most comfortable slumped into corners with his arms folded across his chest.

Then again, Shiro was good friends with Keith, too, and Shiro was a normal, outgoing human being, so maybe there was something to Keith she didn’t see.

Still didn’t mean she forgave him for leaving her alone to awkwardly attempt to converse with Shiro.

Luckily, Shiro _was_ a normal, outgoing human being and comparing notes at the latest physics lab got them as far as the mall parking lot without awkward silences. They cambered out of the car where Shiro stuffed his hands into his pockets, Allura obsessively tucked her hair behind her ear, and Keith hung behind them like a pale, sulky shadow.

“So we could keep standing around like this…” suggested Shiro, a tiny smile on his lips.

“But that would be boring,” finished Allura, having accepted that Keith was going to be exactly no help in this situation. “There is a shop I quite like nearby. We could go there?”

She didn’t give the boys a chance to protest, forcing herself to hold her head high as she marched forward. Presentation is half the battle, her father used to say, and…well… No, she didn’t need to dwell on that. It was still a good thought.

They got as far as a sign that announced _The Castle: Beauty that is out of this world!_ before Keith spoke up.

“Is that a make up store?”

Allura froze, eyes locked on the massive arrangement of lipstick on display. Oh crap, she should have realized—Inside, her guts were curdling, but on outside she pasted on a confident smile.

“Actually, there are a lot of interesting things…” She trailed off, looking hopefully at Keith and Shiro.

Keith’s expression looked like she had just suggested the moon was made of jello. Shiro was studying the storefront, his face unreadable. He looked back at Allura.

“Well, why not?”

Allura’s heart flipped over, and she did a double take. “Really?”

Shiro shrugged. “Sure. It’s not like it will hurt anything. Right, Keith?”

Allura half expected Keith to object, but he just shrugged. “Sure.” She did notice Shiro give him some kind of curious look, but she couldn’t figure out what it meant and apparently neither could Keith since he refused to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“All right then.” Allura grabbed each of the boys and marched them inside.

_The Castle_ , after further consideration, probably wasn’t the best place to take two near strangers. Coran, the owner of the shop, had been a friend of his father’s during college and through law school, as well as a partner in crime through his intergalactic adventures if you believed the way Coran told it. Allura had spent a lot of time here last year, when she was first arrived in the States and far too prone to isolate herself in her grief. Coran was always available with a wacky story, a new beauty product, or just a listening ear when nothing else worked. Unlike everyone else at time, he seemed to _understand_ her pain instead of just pitying her for it. It had been Coran who had encouraged her to get involved in student government and yearbook, just to get her out of her head. Things were better now, but there had been several pain-filled months when every free moment she had had been spent in this wild, quirky shop.

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea crack open her sanctuary like this, but here they were so Allura was just going to have to grin and fake it.

“Coran! It’s me!” she called as the bell tinkled above them.

A man with violently orange hair, a mustache, and more energy than any un-caffeinated human being should ever have leapt _off_ an upper level shelf, landing in a squat so close to them that Keith yelped and crashed into a rack of outrageous headwear.

“Allura! It’s been a while. Ah, but who’s this?” Coran pulled out what looked like a monocle made out of some slightly glowing crystal and using to using to examine… Well, Shiro’s pecs were the nearest object. Shiro stumbled back, ears red.

“These are my friends, Shiro and Keith,” explained Allura. “Shiro, Keith, this is Coran.” She tried to think of a way to describe Coran, failed, and decided to just leave it at that.

"It’s nice to meet you,” said Shiro because he was a polite person. Keith was just staring.

“Delighted!” cried Coran, shaking Shiro’s hand enthusiastically. If he noticed it was metal, he didn’t let it show. “You seem like a strapping young man. An excellent trait to have, especially should you ever have to fight off a flock of bytors! And not so scrappy over there either, Number Three!”

“Number Three?” repeated Keith.

“Ah yes. I have you ordered by height, you see.”

“I—! I’m not that short!” Keith spluttered, visibly offended. “I’m taller than Allura!”

Allura huffed. Deftly, she bundled all her hair into a voluminous bun on top of her head. “Now you’re not,” she declared.

“Right you are, princess!” said Coran, tipping her a wink. “Now come along, Number Three! You look like the sort of man who would appreciate a good bogwaggle cape!”

_What the hell?_ mouthed Keith as Coran bodily hauled him further into the shop. Shiro leaned into Allura.

“Is this guy for real?” he muttered in an undertone.

“Coran is…Coran,” explained Allura with an apologetic shrug. “But he is a good man and a dear friend. He is really very kind even if he is a bit…unusual.”

“That’s one way to put it,” said Shiro. “Uh…We should probably save Keith, though.”

Sure enough, Coran had forced Keith onto a stool and was prodding his face.

“Really, you have the most remarkably clear skin. Truly excellent. What would you say your daily routine is?”

“My what?” said Keith.

“You routine! For your skin. What do you do for it?”

Keith stared blankly. “I… don’t?”

“It’s true,” sighed Shiro as if admitting to a great burden. “Even after nine days of camping—his skin is just naturally stupid perfect.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Like you have any room to complain.”

Shiro smiled and shook his head, but his expression suddenly seemed fake. “No one would call my face pretty.”

Allura, who thought Shiro’s face was unfairly pretty no less than five times a week, gaped. Keith didn’t look surprised, just annoyed and frustrated.

Coran, meanwhile, simply cut to the heart of the matter. “Now why would you say that?”

Allura was standing a half step behind Shiro, so it gave her a perfect view of the way Shiro’s shoulders were tensing up. He tried to smile, and it just looked… _bad_.

“I mean, I kind of have a massive scar across my face.”

“Hmmmm,” said Coran, now almost nose to nose with Shiro. At least this time he had left off jeweled monocle. After a moment, he clapped his hands and straightened. “Well, we can fix that!”

“I—You can?”

“Of course! Number Three, out of the chair. Chop chop!”

Keith jumped out of the chair with obvious relief but hesitated, eyes on Shiro. Coran had no such hesitation, grabbing Shiro and herding him forward. Shiro caught Allura’s eye as he was backed into the chair, and she did her best to send him an encouraging smile.

Shiro looked almost as uncomfortable in that chair as Keith had, just politer about it. His eyes followed Coran as he began picking out beauty products.

“So can you cover it up, or…?”

“Well, I suppose that is possible,” hummed Coran. “But I have to admit that isn’t really the approach I prefer.”

“Coran really has an eye for this sort of thing,” said Allura, catching the worried expression on Shiro’s face. “Almost my entire basic look comes from him!”

 “Well, if he chose _your_ make up,” said Shiro. His smile still looked a little false, but at least he seemed less tense.

“You two can take a look around the shop,” suggested Coran a bit forcefully. “This will take a few ticks.” Keith only dug his heels in and folded his arms, looking nothing so much as overprotective parent. Allura chose to examine a display of Balmeran crystal earrings. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed—it couldn’t have been more that five minutes or so—when Coran straightened and declared, “All done now! Come see what you think.” Slapping Shiro on the back, Coran pushed him in front of the mirror on the store’s back wall. “What do you say, my boy?”

Shiro was silent in front of his reflection. Hesitantly, he touched the scar along the bridge of his nose, then let his hand drop, turning his head slowly side to side.

“I… actually don’t hate how I look right now.” His voice was almost awed.

Coran, as far as Allura could tell, hadn’t put a touch of make up over Shiro’s scar. Or hardly anywhere on his face. He’d put all his attention on Shiro’s eyes—and oh what eyes they were. Shiro’s eyes were already pretty (a fact Allura had noticed one traumatic day in calculus when Shiro had leaned close to talk to her and Allura had forgotten just about everything up to and including her own name). Coran had just highlighted that. The eyeliner accentuated the natural shape of Shiro’s eyes, following the wing of his eyelashes because of _course_ they just grew like that, and the color brought out grey highlights in his irises. It was subtly done so it wasn’t immediately obvious that Shiro wearing make up—It just knocked the breathe out of you because _great stars above,_ _no human being was supposed to be **that** attractive._

Or maybe that was just Allura. But she was still trying to maintain the position that that was just the natural response to being confronted with the beauty that was Shiro.

Shiro seemed unaware of his newly acquired superpower because he was still staring at his reflection and hand hovering like he wasn’t sure whether or not to touch. He turned around to face Keith and Allura.

“Does it look too feminine?”

“Who  _cares_?” said Keith to Allura’s surprise. “Do _you_ like it?”

Shiro looked back at his reflection. “I…”

“It looks very nice,” said the rational human being that sometimes pretended to inhibit Allura.

Shiro’s cheeks tinged pink. “You think so?”

“Of course,” Allura managed not to stutter. Shiro was that hot, and _didn’t know it_? Someone help Allura’s poor, betrayed heart.

Shiro rubbed the scar on his nose again, and Allura was _this close_ to asking him how he’d gotten it. Was it new? Did he get it the same time he lost his arm? When had it happened? _How_ had it happened? Allura bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep any of those questions from escaping. It was rude, and Shiro was already clearly self-conscious enough with his appearance. She could  _not_ exacerbate that.

 “If you like the look, I’d be happy to get the eyeliner for you. And at a discounted price, too!” said Coran.

“I…” said Shiro again. Really, if he didn’t want to wear it, it was no big deal. But he kept glancing back as his reflection, almost with longing. “It would probably be too much work.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be every day,” suggested Allura. “Sometime it’s nice just to have the option.”

“…I do like it,” Shiro admitted.

“Why not give it the old try!” cried Coran. “You never know what you’re capable of until you’ve done it. Why, I remember when I was a boy and I thought it was military or nothing! Never thought I would own a beauty shop!”

Allura, who had already heard this story (as well as many other selections from Coran’s wild and rambling life history), only smiled. Shiro gave the customary courtesy laugh, and Coran rummaged around in his selections of products.

“Ah yes, here’s the number!” Coran held out a sleek black tube of liquid eyeliner. “Guaranteed to stay sharp even in the face of rain, sweat, and a rampaging herd of kanmuriel! Couldn’t recommend better!”

“Thank you,” said Shiro. He began to reach out to take it, only to glance down and abruptly drop his hand.

“Oh. Nevermind.”

Coran squinted. “Now whatever changed your mind?”

Shiro gave one of his fake smiles, and Allura immediately hated it.

“I’m right handed,” he explained. “Or—I was, anyway. I guess now I’m literally not right handed at all.” He accompanied that with a little huff of a laugh that rapidly sprung into place as one of Allura’s least favorite sounds in the world. “I don’t know which would make a worse mess: my left hand or this.” Shiro held up his prosthetic hand—the one he spotted before he gave up.

Allura’s stomach plummeted like a lead rock. It just wasn’t _fair_. Shiro deserved to be happy, and it wasn’t fair for the universe to dangle something he wanted in front of him only to snatch it away like that. But at the same time, there wasn’t anything she could do about it, and it left her feeling frustrated and furious. Even Coran looked a bit lost.

Keith let out an angry growl like an engine revving up. He snatched the eyeliner from Coran’s hands and thrust it into Shiro’s. “Take it,” he snapped.        

“Keith,” said Shiro. “You know I can’t—”

 “ _I’ll_ do it,” interrupted Keith. “I’ve got steady hands, and I’m good at copying. So. I could do it.” Awkward Keith was coming back, shifting from foot to foot. “If you want.”

“I can’t ask you—”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Keith was staring Shiro down, eyebrows drawn and fists tight like he was ready to start a fight right there in the middle of the shop.

Well, if Keith had not qualms about strong-arming Shiro, neither did Allura.

“We’ll buy it,” she said, pulling out a twenty and handing it to Coran. “Here.”

“Wait! No!” said Shiro. “Allura, I can’t let you pay for that.”

“You drove us here,” said Allura airily. “It’s gas money.”

“It’s a ten minute drive. There’s no way—”

“Perhaps you have a very fuel inefficient car,” Allura suggested.

Clearly realizing he couldn’t win against her, Shiro changed tactics. “Coran, I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

“Oh, no no no!” sang Coran, dancing out of Shiro’s reach as he tried to give back the eyeliner. “So sorry! I’m afraid we have a very strict ‘no return’ policy. No way to avoid it. Simply impossible.” He danced over to the cash resister, to enter the sale and get Allura’s change.

Shiro looked between Keith and Allura. “You guys…”

“Shut up, Shiro,” said Keith.

Shiro looked mightily offended but did, in fact, shut up.

“We’re being nice,” continued Keith. “Deal with it.”

“But you—”

“I  _believe_ ,” interrupted Allura in her most posh British tones, “that the proper way to respond when someone has been kind to you is with _gratitude._ ”

Together, they stared Shiro down. Keith had his arms crossed across his chest and was glaring while Allura did her best to look like royalty who should never, _ever_ be disagreed with.

Shiro seemed to know when he had been had, and his shoulders came down. “Fine,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Allura grandly.

“Just stop being stupid,” said Keith.

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Sure, because you’re one to talk,” he said, shoving Keith—maybe a bit harder than usual. His eyes hardened and his jaw jutted out as he turned to Allura. “And I owe you lunch.”

“That is acceptable,” Allura said because “You owe me a date!” was cringe-worthy and horrible and sounded way too much like Lance and therefore 100% guaranteed not to work.

Shiro looked down, rolling the eyeliner between his fingers. “Seriously, though,” he said, a bit softer. “You don’t have to do that for me. Either of you.”

“We wanted to,” said Allura simply. Keith punched Shiro in the stomach, and that seemed to have a better effect.

While Keith darted behind the moisturizer display to escape retaliation from Shiro, Coran came back with Allura’s change and a bag for Shiro. Everything seemed to be going well—Keith was even contributing to their discussion of where to go next (“Not Hot Topic, Keith.” “For the last time, Shiro, _I don’t shop there!_ ”)—when Shiro pulled out his phone and swore softly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Allura.

“Nothing,” said Shiro. “Well, nothing terrible. My mom wants me and Keith to help her get dinner ready for company.”

Allura’s gaze flicked to Keith. That didn’t sound like anything swear worthy. Unless Shiro really didn’t want to help out around the house, but that seemed incredibly out of character for Shiro. She couldn’t see how this would be a problem. Except—

“When?” asked Allura.

“Um, pretty soon.” Shiro scrolled through his text messages. “Mom and Dad both managed to get off work early. Looks like…Yeah. They’re heading home right now.”

Allura met Keith’s eyes in horror. For once, they were thinking the same thing.

_Lance!_


	6. Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shiroganes are coming home, and Lance and Hunk are still in the house. As expected, nothing is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which I put way too much thought into Shiro's bedroom in this chapter, but since I did... Normally, I would imagine Shiro's room to be neat to the point of feeling barren. But in this universe, Shiro's still a teenager and hasn't gotten all the military training drilled into his head by the Garrison. Or been captured by aliens and thrown into a giant space war without warning. There's something to be said about your sense of permanence affecting what you do (or don't) with your space. Which could have some interesting implications considering what KEITH'S room looks like...

Unlike Keith’s room, Shiro’s _definitely_ looked lived in. There were discarded clothes that—well, they looked like they had _tried_ to make it to the hamper. The windowsill and two shelves were stacked high with trophies and ribbons and certificates, along with little figurines, possibly a scaled model of the Mars rovers and…was that a Chewbacca mask?   

Yeah, that was definitely a Chewbacca mask. Actually, now that Hunk was looking, there was a bit of a theme. Shiro had no fewer than _three_ full-sized NASA posters on his walls, one a detailed diagram of the shuttle from the Apollo missions. Looking up, Hunk saw those glow-in-the-dark stars for kids stuck to the ceiling, painstakingly put in the pattern of what Hunk assumed were real constellations judging the laser-straight lines connecting them and the penciled labels. And, now that Hunk looked closer, Shiro’s bedspread which he had assumed was just black was actually speckled with stars.

“Woah! I had no idea Shiro liked Naturo!” cried Lance, who was going through Shiro’s crammed-almost-beyond-capacity bookshelf. “And he has almost the entirety of Brandon Sanderson’s collected works. Only two Star Wars books, through.” Lance clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Shiro.”

“Not everyone feels the need to read every extracanonical source on Star Wars like you do, Lance,” said Hunk. He moved toward the bed. Under the pillow was normally a good place to check for interesting stuff. It’d worked for Keith, anyway.

“Okay, but who’s this Douglas Adams guy? Shiro has like five books by him.”

Hunk paused. “That sounds familiar. I think Pidge mentioned him once. What are the titles?”

“Um,  _Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul_ and—AAARGGG!”

Hunk whipped around, Shiro’s pillow raised in front of him like a shield.

Lance was scrambling backwards on his hands while a very large black cat jumped up on top of Shiro’s bookshelf and followed Lance’s progress with narrowed yellow eyes.

“Oh no,” said Hunk, taking a step back towards Shiro’s bed. The cat noticed and in one flying leap, jumped from the bookshelf to the bed, turning around and hissing at Hunk. Hunk quickly stumbled back.

“Okay. That cat does not like us.”

“Oh come on, it just needs to get used to us,” said Lance who has gotten over his fright remarkably quickly. “Let me. I’m a cat whisperer.” He pushed past Hunk. “Hey kitty, kitty. It’s just me and my buddy, Hunk. No need to—Ow!”

“Cat whisperer?” repeated Hunk sarcastically while Lance cradled his scratched hand.

“Shut up. It normally works.” Lance glared at the cat. “You are not a very nice kitty.”

The cat (who Hunk had decided to call Black in his head for…obvious reasons) looked less than impressed. It circled Shiro’s bed once before stopping in the middle, settling on its haunches, eyes haughty and disdainful.

“Okay, we’re just going to go over here…” Lance began, but the cat lunged forward, displaying disturbingly large canines. Hunk wasn’t sure, but normal cats weren’t supposed to look that much like lions, right? _Right?!_

“ _Oorrrrr_ not,” said Lance. “I can stay right here, crazy vicious cat.”

The cat settled back on its haunches, eyes focused unblinkingly on Lance.

Hunk raised his hand. “Okay. Theory.”

“Shoot.”

“That cat _really_ doesn’t want us to touch Shiro’s stuff.”

The cat gave Hunk a look that Hunk could have sworn said, _Took you long enough._

Lance gulped and nodded. “Um…”

The Imperial March started blasting from Lance’s pocket, and Lance rushed to answer it.

“Ohmigosh, Pidge! Help! We’ve been trapped by a wild animal. Did you know Shiro has a cat?”

“ _Duh. Shiro’s instagram is full of it._ ”

Also there was a truly impressive cat tower in one corner of the room that Hunk had just noticed. They really shouldn’t have been as surprised as they were.

“Excuse you, the cat on Shiro’s instagram is cute and cuddly! This thing is terrifying and vicious!”

“ _Yeah, well, Shiro’s cat hates everybody except him. And sometimes Keith._ ”

“Okay, but _how_ do you know this?”

“ _Not the point. Guys, Allura just texted me. The Shiroganes are coming home soon._ ”

“What? Shiro—?”

“ _No. They’re still at the mall. His_ parents _. They’re supposed to be arriving any minute now._ ”

Hunk’s stomach dropped to the bottom on his feet. He had entirely forgotten that they had more just Shiro to worry about.

“Crap, crap, crap!” Lance shot Hunk a wide-eyed look of panic.

“ _You guys need to get out of there—Oh no._ ”

“Pidge?!” cried both Hunk and Lance at the same time.

“ _Maybe it’s not—No. Nope. I’m right. The Shiroganes are pulling in right now._ ”

Sure enough, Hunk heard the telltale rattle of the garage. “I knewit! I told you this was a bad plan,” Hunk said.

“Forget that! We need to move!”

Lance grabbed a handful of Hunk’s shirt and bodily yanked him out of the room. The cat followed them to the doorway and then stayed there, its tail swishing. Hunk turned his head back to front and ran with Lance back to Keith’s room. Lance tugged on the window.

“We just need to—Why is it sticking _now_?”

Hunk hurried over to help, panic making his fingers shake.

And then a woman’s voice floated up the stairs.

“Takashi? Keith? Is that you?”

Lance and Hunk’s eyes met in mutual horror.

Doors opening and shutting downstairs. “Boys? Are you home?”

Lance straightened up, eyes fixed on the bedroom door, and Hunk knew the look of a bad idea hatching.

“Lance. No. Lance. _What are you doing?_ ” Hunk hissed. “Get back here!”

But Lance was striding out of the room with the same confidence that usually proceeded him getting rejected by whomever he was about to flirt with.

“ _Lance!_ ”

Lance just shot a cocky grin over his shoulder that almost hid his nerves. Hunk whined in the back of his throat and forced himself into a jog to catch up.

They didn’t even get halfway down the stairs before a middle-aged Asian woman appeared on the landing, her dark eyebrows pulling together. Lance immediately started rambling.

“Hey, sorry. We’ll be out of your hair in a second. Don’t worry. We were just, you know, and like, hey! Let’s go check out—I mean! We weren’t doing anything! We were, um—”

“Keith,” Hunk hissed, 1000% certain this plan wasn’t going to work but willing to try anyway.

“Yeah! Keith!” agreed Lance, nodding vigorously. “We were looking for Keith! Only, uh, he’s not here so…”

Mrs. Shirogane’s eyebrows rose even higher, but she was beginning to smile. “Are you boys friends with Keith?”

“Um… yeah.”

“Yup! We’re friends with Keith. We _love_ Keith. Absolutely!”

Hunk was sure they were about to get it while Lance kept rambling, but Mrs. Shirogane expression slowly transformed into a wild grin.

“Oh, but that’s wonderful!” she cried. “It’s so nice to hear that you’re friends with Keith. Ryou, did you hear that?” she called behind her.

A tall, bespectacled man with an armful of groceries poked his head out of the kitchen. His hairline was receding, but he had bold eyebrows and a sharp jawline exactly like Shiro’s. And the expression of well-restrained humor was familiar, too.

“Keith has friends?” he said.

“I know! It’s a miracle!” Mrs. Shirogane turned back to Lance and Hunk. “Oh, but you have to stay. Keith should be here in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, um, thanks Mrs. Shirogane…” Lance sent a panicked look at Hunk. Hunk sent that panicked look right back.

And then, at that moment, a car horn blared from the outside, three times louder than normal because, well…

Because the Holts were agents of chaos, really.

Also, Pidge was their salvation.

“Sorry! We gotta go! That’s our…”

“Friend,” filled in Hunk at the same time Lance said, “Mom.”

“Uh…Mom-friend! I mean! My mom who is my friend. So we gotta—!” Once again, Lance grabbed Hunk and started hauling him away him.

“Thank you!” called Hunk, having no idea what to say but the lessons his grand had ingrained in him demanding he say something polite.

“It was nice meeting you, Keith’s friends!” Mr. Shirogane yelled from the kitchen.

“Come back anytime!” called Mrs. Shirogane.

Pidge laid on the horn again. Hunk shot the Shiroganes an apologetic smile as he half-ran with Lance out the front door.

“Whew,” gasped Lance once the door had shut behind them. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“I knew this was a bad plan,” Hunk moaned.

“Yeah, yeah. But it all—Is that Shiro’s car?”

Sure enough, there was a black sedan turning on to their street just a little _too_ fast to be considered reasonable.

As one, Hunk and Lance broke out into a sprint. Pidge had pulled the car closer to the Shirogane’s house, the engine already running, her nose just barely above the steering wheel. Hunk almost believed they were going to make it when—

“Hey, Keith, aren’t those your friends?”

It wasn’t the smart thing to do, it wasn’t smart at all, but as one, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge froze and slowly turned to look back at where Shiro and Keith were climbing out of their car. Keith met their eyes in wide-eyed horror.

“No,” he said firmly and turned his back and stormed into the house.

Shiro stared between them and the space Keith had just left in confusion. Finally, he settled for an awkward kind of wave and a bemused smile.

Too rattled to do anything else, Hunk waved back.

“Come on, come on, come _on_.” Lance tugged on the back of Hunk’s shirt, and he fell over backwards into the backseat. Before they had even shut the door, Pidge hit the gas.

“Woah woah woah! Why is Pidge driving?” cried Lance. Hunk himself was busying trying to hold on to Lance and shut the door whose latch, for some reason, just wasn’t catching.

“I’m fine!” said Pidge. “I’m killer at Mario Kart.”

Hunk stopped trying to close the door and decided to just hold it. “NO,” he declared. “Pull over. I’m driving.”

“I was _joking_ ,” said Pidge. “Seriously, you don’t actually think—”

“I’m driving,” demanded Hunk.

“Uh, I think they could still see us…” put in Lance.

“I don’t care,” said Hunk. “We nearly fell out of a tree, could have been arrested for breaking and entering, and were attacked by a vicious cat. I am NOT going to die now because Pidge can’t remember which rules apply in real life and which ones are only in video games!”

Pidge sulked a little, and Hunk would probably have to apologize to her later—it really was hard on her sometimes, always being the youngest—but right now everything had gone wrong, and he was not going to die or get pulled over in their getaway car. He _refused._

Pidge, to Hunk’s infinite relief, did pull over, and Lance immediately pulled her into the backseat with him and into an aggressive octopus hug that served to both annoy her and cheer her up. Good old Lance, always knowing how to make someone feel wanted. Within two blocks, she was laughing again, and they were going to be all right.

Still, as he drove away, Hunk couldn’t shake off the feeling they were forgetting something.

***

**To: Matthew Mathias Mathematics Holt**

_[sent image]_

does this look familiar?

**To: Shirt**

Hey it’s my sister’s semi sentient robot!

**To: Matthew Mathias Mathematics Holt**

That’s what I thought. I’ll bring it to school for you tomorrow

**To: Shirt**

Sounds chill

PS where did you find it?

**To: Matthew Mathias Mathematics Holt**

1\. we’re texting. PS makes no sense

2\. in my front yard. Not sure how it got there

**To: Shirt**

1\. I do want I want

PS you can’t control me

PSS FREEDOM OF SPEECH BABY

Also, it’s semi sentient what did you expect?

**To: Matthew Mathias Mathematics Holt**

…

I was hoping you were joking about that

**To: Shirt**

do you really think so little of my baby sister?

**To: Matthew Mathias Mathematics Holt**

on second thought I’m going to

drop it off after dinner tonight

**To: Shirt**

good plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure the Shiroganes have a nice talk with Kieth about how "although we are DELIGHTED that you invited friends over we would prefer it if you would make sure someone is home when they're over." Keith is silently dying of embarrassment, meanwhile Shiro is alternating between crackling meanly and becoming increasingly suspicious of Keith's sudden acquisition of friends.
> 
> As usual, this mess is entirely of Keith's own making and therefore one he can't get out of. Kiddo needs help.


	7. Special

Lance was trying on Allura’s rings, testing how many he could manage to fit on one hand with furious intensity. Which is to say, he was doing everything he could to avoid the flaming judgment coming from Allura’s eyes.

If only Allura were so easily deterred.

“So we learned nothing,” she summarized, refusing to let him escape.

“Well, not _nothing_ ,” Lance argued. “We found out Shiro likes space and has a mad cat that tried to kill me.”        

“According to Hunk it only scratched you.”

“I THINK I WOULD KNOW IF IT’S MY LIFE BEING THREATENED!” shrieked Lance, perhaps a little higher would have normally.

Okay, maybe a lot higher. Allura’s nose was wrinkling. But Lance was rattled. Nearly getting caught by the Shiroganes had been bad enough, but what Lance kept thinking on was the way Keith had refused to look at them and even denied knowing him. He knew it was probably just Keith being awkward, but it had hurt. Lance was a social person. He _needed_ acknowledgement.

Speaking of being hurt—something pointy and black had just bounced off his forehead. Lance caught it between his legs and picked it up. A stick of eyeliner.

“Seriously, Allura?”

“Stop being overdramatic,” said Allura. “Focus.”

Lance groaned and went to drape himself across Allura’s chair, only to overbalance. He flailed dramatically and crashed to the ground in a heap. Allura, the heathen, did nothing to help. Lance decided to resign himself to his fate and became one with Allura’s floorboards.

Something stuck Lance in the back of head. Rapidly, several small hard objects followed suit, striking his head and back.

“Allura!”

Allura sat on her bed, a tube of mascara posed in her hand like a dart. Lance noticed he was surrounded by many other make up objects: several brushes and an eyelash curler.

“No moping,” ordered Allura. “We can’t give up. We _won’t_ give up. Keith and Shiro don’t deserve to be single, and we are going to save them.”

Reluctantly, Lance pulled himself out his self-pity sprawl. Allura sent him a sharp look that would give even his mom a run for her money, and Lance actually sat up like a reasonable human being.

“Now that you’re not being an idiot, we need to come up with a plan,” said Allura. “I propose—”

“ _LANCE!_ ”

Lance and Allura froze.

“That’s my mom,” whispered Lance.

Allura’s eyes blew wide. “You don’t think she found about…?”

Lance’s blood went cold. “No, she couldn’t have—I mean, the Shiroganes weren’t even mad—”

His name rang through the house again, and Allura shoved at the small of his back.

“You better go. I could come with you?”

“No,” said Lance. “It’s better just one of us get in trouble. Pray for me!” He flashed a crooked smile as he darted out of the room, stomach churning.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. Maybe he just…forgot to take out the trash or something. That could be it.

Both his mom and his abuela were waiting for him in the kitchen. This was officially Bad.

“Heeyyyy,” said Lance, skidding a bit on the hardwood floor. “What’s jigging?” He flashed finger guns and his best “stunning” smile.

“ _Lance_ ,” chided Abuela Rosa. People said that Lance reminded them of nothing so much as his abuela when she was younger, but right now she didn’t seem much like him at all, just tired and disappointed. Lance fought down the feeling that his abuela didn’t like him. She did! She just…wasn’t very impressed with him.

Across the kitchen, his mom had her arms folded over her chest. “We got a call from the school,” said Esperanza seriously. “Lance, you have been absent from your English class three times this week.”

“No, I wasn’t!” cried Lance, suddenly scrambling. He hadn’t prepared for this possibility at all. “I swear! I’ve been in class every day, it’s just Sendak’s a jerk and marks me absent if I’m even five minutes late!”

“Three times a week?” said Esperanza. She had light eyebrows, feathered like a bird’s wing, and they were climbing up her forehead with a kind of pointed skepticism that pierced deeper than any kind of threat.

Lance hunched over, hugging his chest. “I get it. Being late is bad.” He sighed. “Anything else?”

Esperanza clicked her heels against the kitchen tile. “Lance, I know seems silly to you, but timeliness is an important life skill. And it’s affecting your grades.”

“My grades are fine!” objected Lance.

“Lance, listen to your mother,” said Abuela Rosa. “Your education is important. You really should make an effort to prioritize that above your social life.”

Did they actually know about the Shirogane’s and this was their tricky, sideways way to get at it? His mother’s gaze was sharp, and for some reason, it hit lower than usual, twisting and stinging in his gut.

"You’re right,” he said hollowly to his shoes. “I’ll work harder.”

“Lance…” began Esperanza, but Lance didn’t listen for her to finish, already leaving.

“I’m going to go…study.”

Then he left before they could prod anything else. He hurried past Allura’s door, not wanting to have to stop and explain. His shoulders traveled up higher and higher towards his ears and his chest felt oddly jiggle-y. As soon as he got to his room, he flopped face-first onto his bed and tried to keep his breath from shaking as the hot sticky air gathered in the trapped pocket around his nose.

It really wasn’t that bad, he told himself. It could have happened any time. He knew his grades weren’t the best. He could face that and work harder, but it was just, well… Lance _tried_. He worked so hard for the grades he earned, but it was never enough. He wasn’t genius smart like Pidge, who could ace every test without studying. Or organized smart like Hunk who never missed an assignment because he always knew when everything was due, worked ahead, and gave exactly what the teacher wanted. Not to mention, Hunk was pretty genius smart, too. Lance had to work hard to master the material, and he _tried_ to keep track of everything, he really honestly _tried,_ and yet there was always some worksheet he lost or test he forgot about. And then there was freaking _Allura_ …

No. That wasn’t fair. Lance really liked having Allura around. He had enjoyed getting to know the cousin that had lived overseas and he’d only gotten to see once or twice a year before. And it was hardly as if Allura’s life had been _easy_. Lance couldn’t even imagine living through what she had.

But Allura was just so put together. Sure, she wasn’t actually perfect, but she still managed to get straight A’s coming right from England. Even in AP US History! Not to mention she was the student body president and overall just good at everything. And Lance was super happy for her! It was awesome that she was that awesome!

But sometimes it was just hard, to have her around and have everyone comparing them, when he was just…Lance.

There wasn’t anything really special about just Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short! I tried but I couldn't get it to fit in either the chapter before or after it, but it had beats that felt important so it's just on it's own. I'll try to double post this week to make up for it!


	8. Responsible

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

So I feel really bad about this

but could you do me a favor?

**To: Takashit**

sure

what is it?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I need a ride

**To: Takashit**

Cool. I can pick you up

…

where’s the car?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

yeah, that’s the thing

I have the car. I just can’t drive it

_[sent image]_

**To: Takashit**

WHAT HAPPENED?

IS THAT BLOOD?!

SHIRO ANSWER ME!

WHAT DID YOU DO?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

chill, keith. It’s ketchup

I was craving french fries so I drove to

freddy’s on my off block but I forgot to charge

my arm last night and it died on me when

I was carrying the tray—hence the splattered ketchup.

But I’m fine

…besides the fact that my right arm doesn’t work

**To: Takashit**

oh, that sucks.

do you not have the charger?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

left it at home

Also, everyone saw when my arm went dead. So of

course they feel all sorry for me and now the manager

is trying to comp me

**To: Takashit**

it’s free fries shiro

take it

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

They’re pity fries.

Do you want people to giving you fries because

you’re an orphan?

…

Sorry.

That was out of line.

I can’t believe I sent that

**To: Takashit**

it’s ok.

i get it

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I’m so sorry

**To: Takashit**

and I said I get it

drop it Shiro or i’ll leave you stranded

at freddy’s with the pity fries

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

…

so you can give me a ride?

**To: Takashit**

you realize I don’t have a car?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

you could ask a friend to borrow one?

or get them to give you a ride idk

**To: Takashit**

did you forget how you’re talking to ?

It’s me, Keith, the emo loner freak

no friends here

 

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

really keith?

…

you know what, nevermind

I bet I can drive one handed

**To: Takashit**

SHIRO NO

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I can make it work

it’ll be fine

**To: Takashit**

NO ITS NOT

FINE. ill find a ride ok?

ill talk to someone

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

wow I feel so loved. Keith is going to talk to PEOPLE for me

*clutches heart*

*wipes tears from eyes*

this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!

**To: Takashit**

i hate you and im leaving

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

no keith come back!

Keith

Keith

Keeeeeeeeeeeeeiiittth!

well now I’m bored

…

btw, you know you’re a freaking hypocrite, right?

***

Lance was face-down on the library table, trying to bully his mind into focusing on his Civics worksheet. (Civics was, as far as Lance could tell, the most incoherent class ever invented. They were over a month in, and he _still_ couldn’t tell you what it was about. It seemed one part the Constitution and the American Revolution (because those are the _only_ two important historical events according to the American education system), one part Say No to Drugs, and one part cop recruitment program. All that, and Lance still didn’t have the slightest clue how to, say, register to vote or _pay taxes_. You know, those actually important things you’re supposed to do as a citizen.) As indicated by the face-down status, Lance was hardly making progress. But he was _trying_. He pushed his face off the fake-wood desk and squinted at the worksheet. Now if he could just get the black little squiggles to condense into words…

“Hey.”

The voice was soft but directly in his ear, and Lance jumped, flailing dramatically and falling halfway out of his seat.

“What the—! Keith?”

“Seriously?” said Keith, absolutely no inflection on in his tone. He was staring at Lance with the kind of expression that might be expected if one’s textbook inexplicably transformed into a dung beetle.

Lance attempted to maneuver his fail-induced position (complete with his face mushed heavily against the lip of the desk) into something suave and sexy, chin resting in his hand.

“Heeyyyy. Fancy seeing you here.”

Keith was still staring at him. Lance huffed.

“I’m flirting with you. You’re supposed to be impressed and possibly swooning.”

“Oh. Okay?”

“I don’t see swooning.”

Keith blew his bangs out of his face and collapsed into the seat next to Lance. Close enough.

Now that he thought about it, Lance had never run into Keith during his off block before. It made something warm and gooey bloom in his chest. _Keith sought him out_.

Keith rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. “Look, I need help.”

Lance was ready with a hundred smooth and charming lines ( _Yes_ , they actually worked, Pidge), but the lines around Keith’s eyes were all drawing together and he kept rubbing his knuckles. It made it seem like when Keith said he needed help, maybe he actually… _needed help._

Lance sat up, pushing away his Civics materials (not that he was about to get distracted by that anyway).

“What do you need?”

Keith sighed. He had his arms crossed across his chest and a deep scowl on his face, but the way he held his shoulders made Lance think “scared feral cat.” All he needed were the ears; his hair already seemed to poofing up to make him look bigger.

"So it turns out Shiro is an idiot and got himself stuck at Freddy’s.”

“I thought Shiro was like…superhuman or something,” said Lance. “How’d he manage that?”

“He’s an idiot,” repeated Keith like that clarified everything.

Lance waited but, with no explanation forthcoming, decided to let it go.

“Okay. So…why do you need help?”

Keith sighed, rubbing his knuckles again. “I told Shiro I’d get him a ride. But he took the car and then got stuck across the city with only one working arm. So I’m stuck _here_ and he’s stuck _there._ Oh, and Shiro’s a freaking dumbass so if I don’t figure this out soon, he’s going to try to drive anyway, and I can’t deal with seeing him in the hospital again, I _can’t_!”

Keith’s eyes flashed too bright in the library’s terrible lighting. His fists seemed to shake with how tightly he clenched them.

“Hey. Hey,” said Lance. He reached out and squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Keith’s jaw worked, and he nodded to the table.

“Just, uh, one question,” said Lance. “You know I don’t have a license, right? Or a car?”

Keith huffed. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t have anyone else I could talk to.”

Lance’s heart was stuck in an awkward sort of contortion; he couldn’t decide if that comment was sweet or sad.

No, scratch that. He knew. It was just sad.

But he could ruminate re: Keith’s need for more human relationships later. Apparently right now they had to stop his foster brother from making terrible motor vehicle related decisions. Which, by the way, was still throwing Lance for a loop. He always thought Shiro was, like, Adult levels of Responsible. To hear that he was liable to make decisions dumb enough to be on par with Lance—or, heaven forbid, _Keith_ —was a little disconcerting.

“Um…there’s Matt Holt,” said Lance. “He has a car, and doesn’t he know Shiro?”

“Apparently he tried administering an optical exam on himself yesterday, and now his eyes are horrifically dilated.”

_"That’s_ what happened? Pidge kept going on about alien experimentation.”

“It’s what Shiro said,” Keith said. There was a gleam in his eyes daring Lance to disagree with Shiro. Lance wasn’t going to risk it.

“I’d say we could grab Hunk—you know Hunk, right?—but he has Mrs. Dayak right now—”

"That one history teacher?”

“Yeah.” Lance shuddered. “Trust me. You do _not_ want to cross her.”

Keith kicked at the table leg, frustrated. “So Hunk’s out. Who else? Don’t you know, like, lots of people?”

Lance felt his cheeks go warm, not sure whether it was from pleasure or embarrassment. “I _talk_ to a lot of people. Or at them. But as far as actual friends go…” By this point, Lance’s blush felt more like spikes of heat in his cheeks, and yeah, this was _definitely_ embarrassment. “I don’t have as many—Actually, it’s pretty much just Hunk and Pidge,” he admitted. “That’s it.”

“Oh,” said Keith.  

Lance cowered a little in his seat. He really wanted Keith to believe that he was cool and hot and popular and all that. The truth was…pretty humiliating.

“Hey.” Keith nudged Lance’s ankle with his foot. “You know I’m a complete loser, right? Like, you’re the only person who even talks to me besides Shiro. I just thought—you know,” Keith made some weird, fluffy hand gesture. “Because you’re good at people.”

Lance let out slightly hysterical giggle. “Haha, nope! I’m actually a loser, too!”

Keith scowled at the table. “This is why we need Shiro.”

What would Lance’s life be like if he had someone as smart and popular and brilliant as Shiro to—?

And then Lance’s brain did that thing where it went through about thirty unlikely connections in less than a second and landed on a _brilliant_ idea.

“Allura.”

“What?” said Keith.

“Allura. She can drive!” Lance’s voice climbed as he got more excited. “We don’t have a car for her which is why she doesn’t normally, but she has a license! Pretty sure she does, anyway. And Pidge can totally get us Matt’s keys!”

Keith was still frowning. “Allura?”

Lance grabbed Keith’s shoulders and shook him. “Keith, Keith, Keith! THINK! If Allura is the one to gloriously rush in to save him, Shiro will totally fall for her!”

"Uh…” said Keith doubtfully.

“Who’s the romance expert here?” demanded Lance. Before Keith could answer, Lance grabbed him by the arm and was dragging him out of the library. “C’mon! We’ve got match-making to do!”

Keith stumbled after him, protesting, “But isn’t Allura actually responsible?”

***

“For the record, I _am_ responsible,” said Allura, spinning Matt’s keys (helpfully ‘borrowed’ by Pidge) around her finger as they walked towards his car. “It’s only because a friend is in need that I would consider skipping.”

“Also it’s a glorified typing class that you’re only taking because your classes from England didn’t transfer well and you needed the elective credit,” Lance pointed out.

“I. Am. Responsible,” Allura ground out.

“Can we hurry?” said Keith who was frowning heavily at his phone. “Shiro’s getting bored, and bored Shiro is even dumber than usual Shiro.”

***

It would take about 1.2 minutes for Keith and Lance to regret that statement. Because here’s what Lance didn’t know:

Allura Altea, Lance’s poised, collected and basically all around role-model cousin, drove like a _maniac._

“Oh, stop yelling. That turn was perfectly safe.”

“THAT WAS A STOP SIGN!”

“And I stopped.”

“WHEN?” bellowed Keith from the backseat. “Last century?!”

“Calm down!” ordered Allura with a turn onto the main road that kept maybe two wheels on the ground. She immediately stomped on the gas.

“THERE’S A CAR THERE!” shouted Lance.

“I see it.”

“IT’S STILL THERE!”

“I said I see it!”

“YOU’RE NOT SLOWING DOWN!”

Allura yanked aggressively on the steering wheel, passing said car in a maneuver that Lance was pretty sure defied the known laws of physics, and floored it again. Lance screamed and clung to the dashboard.

“ARE YOU _TRYING_ TO GET US KILLED?” shouted Keith.

“You two are so _dramatic_ ,” sighed Allura as she casually launched them towards their next near-death experience.

“Sor- _ry_ for not wanting to _die_ in a flaming ball of—THIS ISN’T ENGLAND! YOU CAN’T TURN LEFT LIKE THAT!”

There was the loud squeal of tires—slightly higher pitched screaming from Lance and a continuous stream of swear words from Keith—Lance saw at least five versions of his death flash before his eyes—Then the smell of burnt rubber was strong in the air as they somehow made it out of the intersection unscathed.

And Allura was flooring it again. Lance screamed and scrambled in his seat, reaching back to cling to Keith, who latched onto his wrists with a vice like grip, also screaming.

This was not how Lance had hoped to be holding hands with Keith Kogane.

“Keith, if I die I just want you to know I was one hundred percent serious when I made fun of your mullet!”

“Shut up, Lance! You’re going to waste your last words on _that_?!”

“Yes! Confess!” cheered Allura. “Let fear be your guide!”

“THAT’S A TERRIBLE IDEA!” shouted Keith who averaged about two terrible ideas a day.

“Wait! That’s Freddy’s!” said Lance with a panicked glance out the window. “We’re going to miss—”

Or not. Lance’s voice evaporated as Allura executed a ninety-degree turn across two lanes of traffic at 50 mph. Tires squealing and bouncing off the curb, they made it into the crowded side-street, miraculously missed hitting any of the parked cars, bumped over the edge of the drive into Freddy’s and, somehow, into a picture perfect parking job.

“We’re here,” beamed Allura. Lance and Keith were silent. Lance personally felt like the majority of his internal organs had been left somewhere on the road two intersection behind. He still had Keith’s hands in a death grip and turned around very slowly to meet Keith’s shell-shocked eyes.

Suddenly, Lance couldn’t stand to be alone anymore.

“ _Keeeeeeeeiiitttthhhhh!_ ”

“Lance! No! I am NOT spending another second in this—!” Keith scrambled backwards while Lance tried to swim-climb over the counsel into Keith’s lap. They were both semi-successful, and Keith managed to get the door open at the same time Lance got his arms around Keith and they fell out of the car together, crashing into the asphalt in a tangle of limbs and left over adrenaline.

“We’re dead,” said Keith flatly. “We survived but we’re dead.”

“We’re—Wait, did you just meme?” Lance froze, blinked for a moment, then immediately buried his face in the nearest part of Keith he could manage—which, ow, collarbone. “Noooooo! We broke Keith!”

Keith just took to patting Lance on the head and saying, “There there,” in a dazed, dead sort of voice.

Somewhere in the distance, Lance heard a car door open and a deep sigh that meant Allura had gotten out and spotted them. She was probably trying to talk to them, too, but Lance refused to listen to horrifying driving-challenged death-wishers. In fact, Lance planned to spend the rest of the day tangled up with his not-boyfriend in the Freddy’s parking lot—Keith’s elbow digging into his spleen not withstanding. Unfortunately, that plan was foiled almost immediately.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Because there was Shiro, standing over them with a half-eaten cup of fries and just looking tremendously unimpressed with the both of them.

“Honestly, Keith, I’m not sure what I even expected.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have Allura and all the paladins ranked in order of who's the best driver? Yes, yes I absolutely do. Hunk is the best, Matt is the worst (though Pidge comes pretty close). Lance doesn't have his license because he hasn't gotten around to the paperwork yet. Shiro and Keith both fall into the category "somewhat terrifying but have the reflexes to back it up." Allura, as usual, is entirely in a league of her own. She CAN drive responsibly! Sometimes she just...doesn't XD


	9. Double

Allura would like to point out that she was _not_ a bad driver. They got there all in one piece, right? And really, all the screaming was unnecessary.

Not that Lance was going to listen to her. And somehow her cousin had found someone just as crazy as he was, so it was no-go on that front as well. She was really quite grateful when Shiro spotted them and ambled over, meaning that he was now the one to handle it.

“This is what happens when you ask me to make friends, Shiro,” deadpanned Keith, sprawled on the ground like some version of teenaged roadkill.

“And what _exactly—_ ” Shiro broke off. “Is that Lance?”

Lance picked up his head from Keith’s collarbone. “Hey.”

And Shiro’s expression, which had been a mixture between exasperated and just _done_ , slowly transformed into something brighter and sharper, like he’d stumbled upon the last slice of cake hidden in the refrigerator and now _no one else could have it._

“Hi, Lance,” said Shiro, now smiling disarmingly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Shiro.”

“ _Shiro_ ,” growled Keith.

“It’s really kind of you to give Keith a ride.”

“Shiro, I know what you’re doing.”

Shiro’s smile only grew sharper. “You know, Keith mentions you a lot—”

“SHIRO!”

Keith launched himself up at Shiro, throwing Lance off him in the process, but Lance didn’t seem too concerned. He scrambled to his feet, grinning.

“So you talk about me, huh? A _lot_?”

“Shut up,” grumbled Keith. “Shiro, we’re leaving.”

“Actually…” Shiro _almost_ looked apologetic. Nearly. Except for the wicked gleam in his eyes that spelled trouble. “I really need to talk to Allura about our physics project. Like, right now.”

For one heart stopping moment, Allura actually thought they had something due in physics, that she had let Shiro down, and was internally beginning to panic. But then Shiro met her eye with a slight wink.

“Oh yes. That is very urgent. I was really hoping to talk to you about that, Shiro.”

“Wait,” said Keith, looking suspiciously between them. “What project? What are you talking about?”

“Just give Lance a ride back,” smiled Shiro and— _Oh,_ that was what this was about. He still did a good job of hiding his smirk as he pulled out his keys from his back pocket and chucked them into Keith’s chest. “I’ll go with Allura.”

“Shiro, her driving will kill you,” said Keith dead serious. Lance nodded heavily behind him. So much for being Allura’s favorite cousin.

Shiro, because he was the superior human being, just looked blandly at Keith. “I taught  _you_ how to drive,” he said. “I think I can survive Allura.”

“Harping on about speed limits doesn’t count as teaching me how to drive!” argued Keith.

Shiro raised one damning eyebrow.

Keith's scowl turned into a pout.

“Sorry,” said Shiro pleasantly. “Did you have a point?”

Keith cursed at the ground while Allura bit back her snickers.

“Excellent!” she said once she had her smile under control. “Now that that’s cleared up—Lance, you can go with Keith.”

Lance jumped and looked around at all of them, like he didn’t know what to do. _I’m giving you a chance to be alone with your crush!_ thought-sent Allura at him. _Stop being an idiot!_

Shiro was less subtle.

“C’mon. Get going,” he said, shoving Keith. “Allura and I are officially kicking you out. Goodbye. Don’t do anything nasty in my car.”

“Oh my— _Why._ You are the worst.”

Grumbling under his breath, Keith angry-slouched away. Last second, he grabbed hold of Lance and yanked him along, too. Lance stumbled, eyes wide, before shooting them all a beaming smile and darting after Keith.

“Knew that would work,” said Shiro smugly.

He wasn’t even looking at her, just smirking at the world in general, and Allura’s heart did that wild flip-flop thing. It needed to stop doing that. Like _really_ needed to, because it made her do things like stare at his stupid, cocky smile and try to walk—only to promptly trip when the curb vanished under her feet and she crashed into the car door.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes. Fine.” Allura adjusted her position from where she had caught herself around the side mirror and tried to make it look like she had meant to do that. “Ah. Should we get going?”

Before Shiro could answer, a black sedan pealed past them, tires squealing and bass booming through the open windows. For a brief second, she caught sight of Lance yelling in delight and Keith flipping them off, and then they were gone, roaring out of the parking lot.

“And he calls _me_ a bad driver,” huffed Allura.

“Again: speed limits,” said Shiro. “He doesn’t understand them.”

At least _someone_ was on her side. Allura did her best to untangle herself from the side mirror. She glanced at Shiro. “Want me to get the door for you?”

Shiro scowled. “I don’t need two arms to open a door.”

Oh. Right. Shiro hated being catered to. Shiro winced, seeming to realize he had been rude, while Allura scrambled to make this right. Unfortunately, she had been spending way too much time with Lance lately, so what came out was:

“Well, it’s part and parcel of the chauffeur service.”

“What?” said Shiro.

Well, she’d gotten herself into this mess. Now she had to commit to it. Allura strode confidently to the much-disputed car door. “It’s part of the Altea Chauffeur Service!” she declared. She then opened the door with as much ceremony as she could muster, doffing a pretend cap, and bowing low as she gestured Shiro in. “If you would, sir.”

For a moment Shiro stared at her. Then he laughed.

Allura’s heart jumped (she made him _laugh!_ ), but she fought to keep her expression professional and stoic. “Is there something else you require, sir?”

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you, good…um, chauffeur-er? Chauffeur-ess?”

Shiro shook his head and laughed a little at his own words. Allura _just_ managed not to laugh as she closed the door behind him. She then made her way to the other side of the car. When she hopped in the driver’s side, Shiro was there with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for snapping at you. Coming to pick me up is actually super nice. I should be thanking you.”

“Well, I just hope you plan to leave a good tip,” said Allura.

Shiro looked at his possessions.

"I have, like, three soggy fries?”

Allura snort-laughed and hit the gas too hard, making them shoot out of the parking space. She immediately put her hands on ten and two and focused harder on pulling onto the road. Lance and Keith were _wrong_.

Shiro seemed not to notice their less than smooth start. “Actually, I still owe you lunch, too,” he said after a few moments. “We should go out sometime.”

Allura’s mind went blank save for a few bits of fluff that were playing “we should go out” on repeat in Shiro’s voice.

“Um, Allura? The light’s green.”

“Oh. Right!” Allura stepped on the gas, and they jolted forward too fast. Okay, so maybe Lance had a _little_ bit of a point. But to be fair, Takashi Shirogane was next to her _alone_ in the car, with all his impressive jawline and beautiful shoulders and saying they should “ _go out_ _sometime_.” Repeat: Takashi Shirogane. Hot. Alone. “ _Go out._ ” Allura dared anyone to drive smoothly in those circumstances.

“Do you really want to get lunch with me?” said Allura somehow managed to make her voice come out light instead of hysterical. “You know you don’t owe me anything.”

“I kind of do,” said Shiro. “Besides, I don’t mind. You’re fun.”

Allura could have put a nuclear power plant to shame.

“You think I’m fun?” she beamed.

“Sure,” said Shiro. And she could hear the grin in his voice. “Who else could convince me to wear eyeliner?”

Allura immediately wrenched her eyes from the room to look at Shiro’s face, but he held his working hand up and gestured pointedly at the road.

“No, no. I’m not wearing it today. But Keith and I had a lot of fun last weekend. Though now I have mad respect for you girls. How do you do it every day before school without looking like a raccoon?”

Allura laughed. “A lot practice and a lot of swearing at the bathroom mirror.”

“Really?” grinned Shiro.

Allura nodded seriously. “One of Lance’s sisters thought ‘damn it’ was just what you said when you put on make up. I got it a lot of trouble for that.”

Shiro was snickering now, leaning back in his seat. “Who knew. Perfect class president Allura corrupting the impressionable youth.”

“Valedictorian, good at everything Shiro getting himself stuck at _Freddy’s._ ”

“To be fair, that is hardly the stupidest thing I’ve done.”

“Well, there goes my hope for America.”

Shiro burst out laughing. Soon Allura joined in, and then they weren’t laughing at anything. Just snickering and giggling and sneaking glances at each other and enjoying being ridiculous. Allura couldn’t remember laughing this easily in a long time.

Since her father died, actually.

Too soon, they came back to the school parking lot and necessarily sobered. In the back corner, the distinctive black sedan with mismatched driver door was sitting under the meager shade of one tree.

“Can you see if they’re still in there?” said Shiro. Allura hadn’t noticed he was also looking. She parked Matt’s car and climbed out—but shook her head.

“The lightning’s all wrong.”

“Darn,” said Shiro. He seemed to consider for a moment, then looked at Allura with a conspirator’s grin. “You _know_ … Keith has the biggest crush on Lance.”

Allura’s heart jumped. “That’s funny,” she said. “Because Lance really likes Keith.”

Shiro’s grin grew sharper.

“Oh  _really_.”

And in the moment, Allura’s path forward was remarkably clear.

***

Allura pounced on Lance in the hallway, nearly tackling him to the floor.

“Guess who’s your favorite cousin!”

“Allura, what the heck?!”

“It’s me. I’m you’re favorite cousin. Guess why.”

“Because you’ll kill me if I say otherwise?” suggested Lance.

Allura wacked him across the shoulder. “No. I got you a date with Keith!”

Lance perked up. “You’re dating Shiro?”

“No. I talked to Shiro,” said Allura. “And we came up with something better!”

And look, Lance loved and admired Allura and would be willingly admit she was something of a genius, but she also, how to put this, had an occasionally _skewed_ idea of what normal humans considered a good idea.

Lance watched Allura with some trepidation.

Allura’s smile was less than comforting. “ _Well…_ ”

***

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

What are you doing this weekend?

Oh, right. you’re Keith. you’re doing nothing.

Not anymore. you have plans now.

**To: Takashit**

what the hell shiro

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

We’re going to the Arusian’s party at their lake house

**To: Takashit**

WHY

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Because it’s fun and I don’t want to go alone?

**To: Takashit**

try again

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Ok. How about it’s important to your mental health

that you have friends besides me and this is a

chance to interact with actual human beings

**To: Takashit**

…

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Also lance will be there

**To: Takashit**

WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT LANCE ALREADY

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

_[sent image]_

**To: Takashit**

DON’T SEND ME SMUG SELFIES

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

_[sent image]_

_[sent image]_

_[sent image]_

**To: Takashit**

STOP

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

_[sent image]_

**To: Takashit**

….wait. is that lance?

shiro how did you get a picture of lance

THIS IS INFORMATION I NEED TO KNOW

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

what because you’re thirsty?

_[sent image]_

**To: Takashit**

asdjnadsif

SHIRO

 

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Just think. The party’s by a lake

~shirtless lance~

**To: Takashit**

i hate you

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

but you ARE going now :)

**To: Takashit**

….

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

It’s on saturday

we’re leaving at 7

**To: Takashit**

i didn’t say i was going

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

you keep telling yourself that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pictures of Lance are completely ordinary ones from Allura's phone. Keith is just weak.


	10. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith go on a date! Kinda...sort of.... These boys need help.

Lance’s stomach was a bundle of nerves and excitement. He was going to see Keith. _Keith!_ And it was a date! Or…sort of a date? Did going to the same party count as a date? Did Keith even know it was a date? Crap. Lance hadn’t talked at all to Keith about this plan. He probably should have done that. That was an important part of healthy relationships, right? Crap crap crap. Lance was a failure of all the things—

“Finished hyperventilating yet?”

Lance jumped and shrieked, barely avoiding nailing Allura with his panic-induced flail. “Is Keith even coming?!”

“Yes, of course he is,” said Allura with a flip of her long, puffy ponytail. She had opted for a sportier look today with denim shorts and a pink tank top and was kind of gorgeous—as in, more than usual. Sheesh, but could _one_ person is Lance’s life not be the best at everything? 

“But I forgot to tell him and Keith hates people and what if he has no idea or he thinks it’s lame or he thinks _I’m_ lame and—”

Allura flicked him in the forehead.

“Ouch! What the heck, Allura?”

“Keith. Is. Definitely. Coming.” Allura fixed Lance with piercing stare. Then, suddenly, she beamed. “Shiro sent me proof!”

“Wait. What?”

“ _Grumpy cat Keith getting ready for the party_ ,” Allura read off her phone and turned it around to show Lance.

There, indeed, was Keith, grumpy and adorable as promised, staring deadpan at the camera with one arm stuck half in, half out of his shirt.

But that wasn’t the only thing of note.

“Allura, is that a _heart_ next to Shiro’s name in your phone?!”

“What? No, it’s not!” Allura immediately snatched her phone back.

“It’s is! It totally is!” crowed Lance. “You _liiiiikkkkeee_ him!”

“Shut up! Go back to freaking out about your own crush!”

“So you admit it! You admit it’s a crush!”

“I admit no such thing,” said Allura haughtily. But her cheeks were pink under her dark skin and she was still cradling her phone to her chest.

Beaming and immediately feeling a lot better about where this evening was going, Lance swept past Allura to grab his jacket and then raced out the door to be the first one to the Holt’s waiting car…

….only to freeze when he found both Hunk and Pidge in the backseat.

“Wait. Why isn’t Hunk driving?”

“We had a new idea about Rover,” said Pidge.

 “And I have an experiment!” cried Matt, which not the kind of thing Lance was hoping to hear from the man in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, Matt wants to test a homemade speedometer,” said Pidge.

“Check it out!” beamed Matt. And, no, Lance did _not_ find that comforting. Matt gestured enthusiastically to some kind of…contraption hanging from the rearview mirror. It included a protractor, a ball hanging from a string, deconstructed calipers, an hour glass, two Capri-suns, and several sketchy looking electronics with open wires.

Apparently unaware that his experiment looked like one of Sid’s disturbing creations from _Toy Story,_ Matt was enthusiastically explaining how it worked.

“So the angle the ball makes with vertical can be used to measure acceleration—”

“Oo! Like we learned in physics!” said Allura, who had taken the front seat and apparently saw nothing wrong with this scenario. Then again, Allura was a driving fiend herself and therefore had no concept of reasonable motor vehicle safety.

“Yeah!” said Matt with a smile that was as worrying as his contraption. “So I figured I could rig up a way to capture the angle over time like this and given the proper integration—”

“You’d have a speedometer!” finished Allura.

“Aren’t you the one normally finishing Matt’s crazy science sentences?” Lance asked Pidge.

“Who do you think helped build the thing?” she said.

Lance looked to Hunk hoping to hear a voice of reason, but Hunk was learning forward with light in his eyes. “How are you converting the angle to a digital signal? What are your error tolerances?”

“Am I the only one worried about driving around in a homemade science experiment?” said Lance.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” smiled Allura. “Matt is very smart.”

“Matt once cut across two lanes of traffic on the freeway because he couldn’t resist looking up the Wikipedia article on the invention of pants!”

“Curiosity is my weakness,” admitted Matt.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already confiscated his phone,” said Pidge.

Lance looked at Hunk. Hunk shrugged. “It’s not my car, man. I don’t make the rules.”

Matt hit the gas. “How fast does it say I’m going?”

“Twenty six thousand eight hundred and seventy nine,” Pidge read out. “What the hell? What units are these in?”

“Furlongs per fortnight!” said Matt cheerfully.

“Uh, how does that convert to miles per hour?” asked Hunk, _finally_ catching on to the potential danger this was.

Matt paused. “Um. I forgot to calculate that.”

“Car,” said Allura casually, and Matt swerved around the parked car he had been driving towards. She squinted out the window. “I’m sure you can go faster.”

“Pidge,” said Lance desperately, “How fast are we going?”

“Order of magnitude guess?” she said. “Between 10 and 100.” She shrugged and started messing with the paneling on Rover.

Lance turned to Hunk. “I’m on it,” Hunk said, pulling out his phone. “Uh, what did you say the units were again?”

“Furlongs per fortnight!”

“Those aren’t even real!” shouted Lance.

“A fortnight is two weeks. And a furlong is an eighth of a mile,” said Allura. “Matt, this really can’t be the speed limit. You’re going way too slow.”

“ _Hunk_ ,” whined Lance.

“I’m googling! I’m googling!”

“I wonder if there’s a way to connect the readout to the radio. Maybe if we short this wire—”

“LOOK AT THE ROAD, MATT!”

***

Miraculously, they arrived at the Arus's after only a few frantic calculations (Hunk and Pidge), some dramatic screaming (Lance), several assurances they were fine (Allura), and two wrong turns (“Oh yeah, I forgot: I took the gravimeter out of my phone to figure out how it worked,” said Matt. “Its directions are all uncalibrated now.”) The party was already in full swing, but, as Lance loudly declared, that only meant they were fashionably late. There were people eating barbeque, playing spikeball, dipping their feet in the lake or going out on paddleboards, and most importantly—

“Hey, guys! Glad you guys could make it!”

Shiro was there. With—

“KEEEEEEITH!”

Lance charged forward to tackle hug Keith only to have a change of heart halfway through—Was that the right way to greet a sort-of-not-really boyfriend? It was the way he greeted Hunk. And Allura. Oh no, what if that was only a friend/family thing? What this weird? Did it send the wrong message?—and skidded to a flailing halt inches from Keith’s face.

Luckily, Keith was Keith and instead of calling Lance out on his weirdness, he just shifted into a defensive stance and bristled like he’d been issued a challenge.

Lance pulled out his most suave smile and shot Keith with fingerguns. “Hi.”

Keith blinked. “Oh. Hey.”

“You two are made for each other,” said Shiro. Which might have sounded sappy if he weren’t facepalming while he said it.

“Shiro! My speedometer worked!” cried Matt, apparently oblivious to Lance and Keith’s red faces—or just their general presence. “…though we did have some problems with read-out.”

“Only because you were dumb enough to put the units in furlongs per fortnight,” said Pidge. “Hi, Shiro.”

Shiro smiled brightly. “Hey, Pidge! It’s been a while.”

“Sorry,” said Pidge with an easy butter-won’t-melt smile. “My services have been required elsewhere.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. And when Shiro started to laugh, his suspicions bloomed full force.

“Now wait a minute,” he said. “You two—” he gestured accusatorially between Shiro and Pidge “— _know_ each other.”

“Well, yeah,” said Shiro.

“In a manner of speaking,” added Pidge cryptically.

Matt snorted. “Sure, if by that you mean that you mean you _insisted_ we invite Shiro to your ninth birthday party.”

While Pidge scowled at her brother, Allura and Hunk had arrived and were looking eagerly between them all.

“Well, did Shiro go?” demanded Allura after a moment.

“Yep,” smirked Matt. “He was only teenager with a bunch of crazy elementary schoolers. And he totally let Pidge drag him around the entire time even when Mom gave him the chance to escape.”

“There were rockets,” argued Shiro. “It was cool.”

"So let me get this straight,” said Lance, glaring pointed at Pidge. “You’ve known Shiro for YEARS. You invited him to your _birthday party_?”

“Yeah, about that—you didn’t invite me this year,” said Shiro, pouting. “Am I not cool enough for you anymore?”

Pidge panicked, looking between Lance—red cheeked and ballooning with outrage—and Shiro who suddenly resembled nothing so much as an innocent puppy who had been left out in the cold.

“I—Shiro was in the hospital! I couldn’t invite him this year!” said Pidge. “And I built him a videogame!”

“That’s true,” conceded Shiro. “That was pretty awesome.”

“Except all the times Shiro swore at it because he had to play left-handed,” smirked Keith.

Lance was still glaring at Pidge. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this! All that stuff about ‘my source’—!”

Shiro frowned between Pidge and Lance. “What are you talking about? Source—?”

“Ooo! They have volleyball!” interrupted Allura. “Shiro, you should come play!”

“Oh—I—”

“You know what? That sounds fun,” said Hunk who Lance knew for a fact did _not_ like volleyball. “Can I come with you?”

“Me too,” said Pidge who possibly hated volleyball more than Hunk.

“Wait, what’s going on?” said Matt as group took off. “I don’t get it. Where—?”

Pidge grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. Lance started after them (that little part of him screaming _Don’t leave me behind!_ flaring) but Allura caught his eye and tilted her head pointedly at Keith and—Oh.

_Oh._

Lance looked back at Keith and the small patch of grass they now had entirely to themselves. “Um. Hi?”

Keith frowned. “Didn’t we do this already?”

“Haha, yeah,” squirmed Lance. “I just…don’t know what comes after?”

“Oh,” said Keith. “Neither do I.”

“We could, um, check out the horseshoe?” offered Lance. His voice might have squeaked. He sounded like a choked up twelve year old. Why couldn’t he be _cool_?

“Okay,” said Keith. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and it was impossible to tell from his inflection (or lack thereof) what he was thinking. So Lance, with all the false confidence and bluster he’d ever managed in his life, led the way to the sad-looking sand pits where there were rusty iron pegs and maybe equipment to play horseshoe.

They were halfway there when Keith spoke. “Why is it such a big deal Pidge knows Shiro?”

“Um, because we’ve been trying to collect information on Shiro—you know, the whole _plan_ we’ve got going—and she’s been holding out on us?”

Keith nodded to ground. “Huh.”

Lance’s heart, which has already been pounding somewhere around his collarbone instead of his chest like it was supposed to, jumped again to beating like it was in a cage match with his trachea.

“Look, Keith, I’m trying to make conversation here and sort of like five seconds from panic attack so I _really_ need you to give me more than one-word answers.”

“Oh,” said Keith.

Lance’s brain was pretty much all one unending internal scream. He was about ready to make it external as well when Keith spoke up again.

“Sorry. I’ve just never really done this before.”

Lance could breath again. “Done what?”

Keith shuffled in place and did a weird rolling shrug of his shoulders. “Have someone like me back, I guess.”

“Oh.” Lance flashed through a multitude of giddypityreliefoutrageaffection in a blink of an eye and ended up rambling. “Haha, me neither. Or, at least, not really? There was this one girl but it was this whole thing and then she stole my bike.”

Keith blinked. “Why did she steal you bike?”

“I don’t know! She was mean!”

Keith’s expression grew brighter, his storm-cloud eyes crinkling behind his messy bangs. “I bet you were doing something dumb.”

“I was NOT doing something dumb.”

Keith was really smiling now. “Yeah, you were.”

“Excuse you, I am a brilliant and intelligent individual!”

Keith burst out laughing.

Um— _Rude_. But also, Keith’s laugh was rare and had this raw, half-choked quality to it like he was as surprised as anyone by it. It made Lance feel like his insides had all been replaced by one of those fuzzy, super static-y blankets _._

Keith beamed at him like they were both in on some incredibly good joke, and Lance momentarily went dumb. Keith—gorgeous, graceful, too cool for anyone Keith—was here. With Lance. Like they were a _thing_.

How did Lance manage to end up in a universe like this?

Keith answered that by flicking Lance in the forehead.

“OUCH! What gives?!”

“Are you okay?” said Keith, managing the look sincere and pissed at the same time. Sort of like he was ready to start a fight with whatever was making Lance not okay.

Lance probably wasn’t supposed to find that hot.

…Nope. Too late for that. Oh well. Lance never really set much stock in being sane anyway.

Meanwhile, Keith’s concerned glower was growing deeper, and Lance really should put him out of his misery.

"Yep!” Lance said chipper. “I’m tip-top shape! Totally fantastic!”

His cheeks hurt from smiling and the stupid blush that was burning his entire face as he realized just how dumb he sounded.

But Keith just shrugged like Lance was perfectly normal. “Okay. Um, those horseshoe pits actually look like the kind of sandbox your neighbor’s cat uses as a litter box. Want to play spikeball instead?”

Lance’s heart did a little backflip for no other reason than Keith was _talking_ to him.

“Sure! Let’s—Oh.” Lance’s shoulders drooped. “It’s all seniors playing right now.”

Keith’s eyebrows dropped into a scowl. “They’re not the boss of me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa. Keith! Where are you going?”

“To play spike ball.”

"Those guys are the size of like three of us!”

Keith stopped in his march of high school counter culturism to shoot Lance a cocky smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

Lance may have swooned.

And then he ran to catch up. Keith on a mission was _fast_.

 

As it turned out, joining spikeball was incredibly easy. Keith just showed up, and someone shouted, “Oh hey! It’s Shirogane’s duckling!” and they were immediately folded in.

(“You let me believe they were scary!” Lance whisper-hissed to Keith.

“They’re  _annoying_ ,” huffed Keith as one of the guys cheerfully offered them snacks and water.)

Despite the perfectly friendly seniors Keith apparently had a problem with, spikeball turned out to be a lot of fun. Lance wasn’t entirely sure of the rules and he was pretty sure Keith wasn’t either—not that he could get Keith to admit it. That didn’t stop them from getting ridiculously competitive. Lance happily claimed points every time he so much as touched the ball, and they quickly drove all other players off by loudly—and increasingly ridiculously—arguing over the rules. Things were escalating delightfully when Lance decided to tuck the ball up into his chest like he was in rugby and start running.

“You can’t DO that!”

“Na na! You can’t catch me!” sang Lance, prompting Keith to leap over the net. He flying-tackled Lance, sending them both crashing to the ground where they were promptly clobbered by the net contraption that Keith had set flying when he leaped over it.

“Give it up!” shouted Keith, pawing at Lance’s arms for the ball, unconcerned about the frame and net sitting on top of him. “You’re cheating!”

“Nope. It’s the rules! I’m exercising my right to cuddle!”

“That’s not a rule!”

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

“Is so!”

“LANCE.”

Lance stuck his tongue out. And got an idea.

“Did you just LICK me?!”

“Deal with it,” smirked Lance.

Above them, someone cleared their throat.

They both looked up. Well— _Lance_ looked up. Keith, because he was a dirty cheater, tried to use his moment of distraction to get the ball back. Lance was forced squirm and jab an elbow into Keith’s gut.

“Um.” Plaxum, the very pretty captain of the drill team, tried to smile at them and mostly succeeded. Her friends behind her were less successful. “We were wondering if we could have a turn with the spikeball if…well…” Her voice trailed off in confusion.

Lance made eye contact with Keith who still hadn’t really stopped trying to get at the ball. He looked back at Plaxum.

“Um, yeah, that’s fine. I think we’re done.”

Keith dropped his bony chin into Lance’s collarbone. “Sure.”

“Okay! Great!” chirped Plaxum. “Um, do you need help?”

“No.” In an unfairly graceful move, Keith bucked the collapsed spikeball net off him and rolled up onto his feet. He then swayed slightly, eyes wide like he was uncertain what to do now that he was upright. In a much _less_ graceful move, Lance clambered to his feet and handed the ball over the Plaxum. While she and her friends set up the net again to play an actual game of spikeball, Lance and Keith looked for their next activity. Lance was beaming from ear to ear, pleasantly breathless, and judging by the slight uptick of his lips, Keith was practically beaming too.

“I totally won,” said Lance.

Keith snorted. “Whatever you need to make yourself feel better.”

Lance’s stomach was wiggling like a forest of jello, and he felt suddenly, inexplicitly brave. He grabbed Keith around the wrist. “Hey,” he said. “I’m having fun. With you.”

For a moment, Keith completely blanked out. Then he broke out one of his super rare, soft smiles. He ducked his head so Lance had to read his expression through his messy bangs.

“Me too.”

Lance was pretty sure Keith could see his heart beating in his chest. Part of him knew they were still at a huge high school party, but at the moment the only person in the world for him was Keith. They were less than a foot apart. Lance’s fingers were resting against the warm skin of Keith’s wrist, the velco of Keith’s ever-present fingerless gloves scratching the side of his finger. They were so close. Lance count individual eyelashes.

And then Keith’s eyes skittered to left. “What is he _doing_?”

Lance stumbled, the world suddenly off-kilter. “What?”

“What the hell is he thinking!” shouted Keith, stepping away from Lance.

“What—Who? What’s going on?” stuttered Lance.

“Shiro!” snapped Keith. “He’s getting on a freaking paddleboard!”

“Um, pretty sure paddleboards aren’t going to kill anyone,” said Lance in a voice that no longer sounded like his.

Keith ignored him, already storming off towards the dock where Shiro was.

“Hey hey hey!” Lance ran after him, that _Don’t leave me!_ part screaming inside of him. He moved like if he ran his mortification couldn’t catch up with him. “Stop freaking out. What’s the big deal?”

Keith paused to send Lance a withering glare. “Shiro has a _metal arm._ ”

Oh.

Oh crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure everything will be fine. 
> 
> :D


	11. Invincible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said Shiro gets to act like a teenager? This is the chapter where Shiro acts like a teenager.

Keith stormed onto the dock like a mini hurricane. “Shiro!” He shoved unsuspecting bystanders out of his way. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Hello, Keith. I typically greet people _without_ insulting them. How about you?”

“Stop acting dumb. You know what you’re doing!”

“I’m going to take this moment to state: No. I do not.” Shiro considered for a moment and let out an exasperated sigh. “Is this another freak out about Lance? Because your coping mechanisms need some serious help, Keith.”

“I—You—This isn’t about Lance, Shiro!”

“O- _kay_. Well in that case, you can go release your crazy on someone else, and I’m going to—”

“No! You can’t!”

 Shiro paused, holding the board he’s already put into the water close to the dock with the paddle. “I can’t what.”

Shiro was being intentionally dense. Keith flung his arms into the air. “You can’t go paddleboarding!”

That was the wrong thing to stay. Shiro’s face, which had been blank, now went hard and his jaw locked up as he looked away from Keith.

“Shiro. Are you even listening to me?”

Shiro rolled his shoulders back expression still hard. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, like I believe that,” said Keith.

“Sorry, I don’t recall asking for you to be a filthy hypocrite,” Shiro snapped. He turned his back on Keith, clearly intending to ignore all common sense and get on that paddleboard.

Keith lunged forward, grabbing the back of Shiro’s shirt, but Shiro used the butt of his paddle to jab Keith in the stomach.

“Seriously, Shiro? You’re being an idiot!”

Shiro caught Keith at arm’s length, one hand on his shoulder, too tall and solid for Keith to throw off.

“I. Am. Fine,” he repeated, voice dangerously steady.

And Keith—He was an expert at starting fights he couldn’t win, but he just didn’t know what to do when the opponent was Shiro.

Shiro gave him one last shove to keep him back and returned to the water. Once he was actually climbing onto the paddleboard, Keith didn’t dare grab him again and was forced to settle with shouting from the deck.

“What if you fall off?”

“I won’t fall,” said Shiro, not cocky but with that particular brand of Shiro stubbornness, like he could change the course of the universe by just willing it.

“Shiro, your arm is _made of metal_!”

Shiro didn’t dignify with an answer. He just shoved off the dock, wobbling for a second but then regaining his balance effortlessly because he was Shiro and ridiculously competent at everything.

If only that also made him invincible.

***

Allura was dangling her feet in the lake with Nyma and Romelle, trying to pretend she was watching the water and not the nice silhouette of Shiro’s backside. Nyma, at the least, was having none of it. Romelle was considering Shiro with an expression that suggested either she was figuring it out or she had a thing for Shiro herself, and Allura wasn’t sure which option she liked less.

But before either of them could actually call Allura out on her lovesickness, some jerk on a jetski decided it would be a great idea to fly at the dock without looking. And Shiro was all grace and natural talent, but even he couldn’t stay up when a jetski literally hit his board. There was a great splash as Shiro tumbled into the water and the jetski just missed running over him. Several people on the lake’s edge yelled; others were laughing.

Shiro took too long to surface.

And Allura suddenly knew something was very, verywrong.

There wasn’t time to get her shorts or her shirt off. Allura was up and running, chucking her phone on the grass behind her as she sprinted the length of the dock. Allura had lifeguarded in the summers since she was fifteen, and all of her training was flashing in fast-forward before her eyes. She didn’t break stride when she reached the end of the dock, just dove and hit the water, striking out with strong, practiced strokes. She was halfway to Shiro in a matter of seconds.

He wasn’t submerged anymore; he had broken the surface with wild thrashing. There seemed to be no coordination to his actions at all, and he kept dipping under. Worse, he seemed to be breathing erratically, coughing and choking as he sucked in as much water as air.

“Shiro!” shouted Allura, looking desperately for—there. Shiro’s paddleboard. She grabbed it and pulled it over. “Shiro, grab on!”

If Shiro could hear her, he made no sign of it. He swallowed more water and dipped under again.

“SHIRO!” Allura drove forward. One of Shiro’s flailing hands smacked her in the face, but she grabbed it anyway and pulled herself in to grip him around his chest (warm, firm— _Not_ the time, Allura!). She kicked furiously, a counter to Shiro’s wild thrashing. Water splashed everywhere, up Allura’s nose, into her mouth. With one arm still holding onto the paddleboard, she dragged him until, finally, she was able to pull Shiro’s head entirely out of the water.

Shiro coughed and spluttered, spewing water, gasping too fast, too shallow. Hyperventilating, Allura realized. He’d stopped flailing, but Allura could feel the frantic beating of his heart.

“Shiro!” she yelled, falling miles short of calm. “You have to breathe, Shiro!”

He finally turned to look at her, and there was nothing but naked fear in his eyes. It crashed down on Allura that she had stumbled into something much bigger than she had ever imagined. No way was she enough for this.

But she couldn’t let Shiro drown either.

“Try to breathe, Shiro,” she said, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice. “Deep breaths. I have you.”

Shiro’s breath started and shuttered, like perhaps he was _trying_ but it wasn’t doing much good.

“It will be okay,” said Allura, as much to herself as to Shiro. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” She bit her lip, looking at her options.

"All right. Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said voice full of fake confidence. “We’re going to swim back to shore, all right, Shiro? I’ll get you out of here.”

Shiro was still staring intently at her, and Allura had never been subject to such intense yet uncomprehending focus.

“We’re going to swim,” she repeated slowly, hoping he caught at least some of it. “It will be okay.”

When Allura pushed off the paddleboard, Shiro was at least aware enough to not make this more difficult for her. By the time they got to the dock, he was even helping. Allura pulled herself halfway up first, then reached down for Shiro. Together, a sopping, uncoordinated mess, they belly-flopped onto the dock. Allura collapsed, panting hard. Now that it was over, her body was reminding her of just how long it had been since she last rescue swam someone—let alone someone the size of Shiro or with the addition of a metal arm.

Speaking of Shiro, Allura rolled over to look at him. He was on his hands and knees, sucking in air in great ragged gasps. At least he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. But Allura was close enough to him to see he was shaking badly, tiny violent shivers traveling through his entire body, only partly disguised by the water dripping off of him.

Loud boots slapped the dock planks.

“Shiro! SHIRO! Are you okay?”

Allura immediately felt bad for every uncharitable thought she’d ever had towards Keith. He was frantic, and it was painfully obvious how much he cared.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Shiro! You—”

Two seconds ago, Shiro had been shaking like an autumn leaf. Now he shoved himself to his feet with unsettling steadiness. “I am _fine,_ ” he growled.

That calmed Keith not at all. “You had a panic attack in the water, didn’t you?” he said. “Shiro, that’s _bad—_ ”

“I said, I’m FINE!”

Allura had never heard Shiro shout like that. She had never imagined he could.

Keith bristled right up. “You nearly died!” he shouted. “That’s not fine!”

“And what would you know?” Shiro snarled back, meeting Keith toe-to-toe and leveraging his height against him. “You’re a disaster with no common sense on the best of days.”

Keith’s voice cracked. “I’m trying to _help._ ”

“Well, you’re not,” said Shiro flatly. “I don’t need you to protect me, Keith, and you couldn’t manage it anyway. So. Back. _Off_.”

There was no _way_ Shiro actually meant that. But Shiro’s voice was pure venom by the end, and Keith looked like he’d been struck. Allura had to do something.

She pushed herself to her feet. “C’mon, Shiro,” she said, struggling to keep her voice somewhere in the range of normal. “Let’s go dry off.”

“I’m fine,” said Shiro, not looking at her.

Allura cleared her throat. “Well, I’m not.”

Shiro blinked at her.  

“Can you help me find some towels?”

Shiro stared for a long moment, but then he nodded. With stiff, square shoulders, he shoved past Keith and led the way off the dock.

“ _Shiro…_ ” pleaded Keith, but Shiro didn’t stop to listen to him. Allura followed a step behind Shiro, scanning the lake’s edge until she found Lance. When she jerked her head pointedly at Keith, he gulped and nodded.

So that left Allura just with Shiro and whatever thing had happened in the lake. Allura shuddered and hugged herself.

"The house will be warmer,” said Shiro in a flat voice. His expression was terrifyingly vacant.

Allura hitched up a fake smile. “I’m sure it will be.”

 ***

Lance saw the whole thing. He saw Keith and Shiro argue, Shiro get on the paddleboard, the devil on a jetski, Allura’s rescue. He saw and _heard_ Shiro blow up on Keith. He was torn between outrage on Keith’s behalf and shock that Shiro could even act like that. Allura was making her way off the dock, a step behind Shiro like his bodyguard or something. Well, if she wanted to be the one who took care of Shiro, all the more power to her. Lance personally was kind of terrified of him right now.

Keith though—

Lance took one look at him and felt a deeply familiar pang. When he was younger, he had _idolized_ his older brother Marco and, being a spaztic preteen at the time, had annoyed Marco equally as much. They had a better relationship now, kept up mostly through memes and snapchat, but Lance still remembered with aching clarity the feeling of being shut down and pushed away by the brother he admired so much. Forget being mad at Shiro. Lance was flooded with empathy for Keith.

Keith who was leaving the dock with his head down and his shoulders up at an alarming pace. Lance had to run to catch up. And he only managed because Keith actually stopped, on the edge of the lake where the sandbank had long since stopped and the water instead seeped into a tangle of roots and weeds and a scraggily willow tree. The party was far out of earshot and almost completely out of sight. Keith was digging his toe into the mud, scooping up clumps of dirt and kicking them into the water with an unsatisfying _plop_.

Lance paused a few feet behind Keith and approached slowly.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Keith didn’t answer.

Lance searched around for what to say. The temptation to babble was strong, but it didn’t feel right here. Lance shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Look. Nothing Shiro said to you was fair.”

Keith still didn’t say anything. But then, Keith wasn’t the type to share normally. Maybe he needed more of an opening.

“It’s okay to be upset about this. Shiro shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Keith whipped around. “Why are you here?”

Lance stumbled back. He held his hands up, placating. “You looked up upset. I wanted to help.”

Keith scowled. “It’s none of your business.”

“I—” Lance stuttered, thrown by this sudden development. “I know. But I’m your friend, and I thought that—”

“That I’d appreciate you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” Keith snapped. “Sheesh, Lance, you can’t leave anything alone can you?”

“I— Well— _Sorry_ I care about you!”

“Yeah right,” said Keith.

“What?”

“You don’t care.” Keith turned his back on Lance. “Go back to your stupid party with your stupid friends and leave me alone.”

Lance felt like he had been blindsided by a mechanical bull. “Keith… I-I don’t know—”

“I said, LEAVE,” shouted Keith.

Lance’s mouth was moving, but all his words seemed to have dried up.

Keith huffed. “Or fine. _I_ will.” He started storming away.

“Keith! Wait!”

 Keith was still walking away from him. Lance’s heart was screaming.

“I thought we were a _thing!_ ”

Keith didn’t even look back.

Lance thought he was going to throw up. Maybe Keith didn’t mean it. Maybe he was just overwhelmed or confused or controlled by evil aliens or—

“Oh, stop kidding yourself,” moaned Lance. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes while his breath hitched. If he could just… But he was alone at a party that was supposed to be a date and he wasn’t good enough and his heart was breaking.

Lance started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....that happened.


	12. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friend convinced me to break the usual schedule and post this chapter early, so you have her to thank. Let it be known yes, you CAN bribe me with excessive praise XD Love you, Sia!

Allura was nine when her mother died.

It was funny how memory worked: she didn’t actually remember that last time she saw her, though she knew she had visited the hospital. Mostly what she remembered was that day at school. She had been old enough to take the bus by herself, and when she had spotted her father in the lobby she was too wrapped up in her independence and that “my parents are _embarrassing_ ” phase to acknowledge him. Little Allura had been mortified when, instead of letting her do her thing, her father had gotten _onto the bus_ and made her go home with him. For a short time, that bit of primary school embarrassment had been more traumatic than the actual trauma her father came to tell her of.

Because from that day on, everything was different. Arethia Altea was gone, and Allura had to figure out how to build her life without her.

Allura remembered coming back to school weeks later—lost, hurting, trying so hard to be okay again—and the way everyone treated her so _differently_. The teachers with their strained smiles and soft voices, the kids who skittered around her like she was the untouchable china in your nana’s cupboard. She was no longer Allura: Spelling Bee Champion or Allura: Defeater of Bullies. Instead, she was Allura Who No Longer Had a Mother. And to Allura, who needed so desperately to hold on to whatever she had left of herself right then, the effect had been _devastating._

So much so that when her father died eight years later, she had moved to an entirely new country rather than go through that again. There had been other factors, too, of course (not the least of which was wanting to avoid her _other_ aunt who the creepiest person Allura had ever known—with the possible exception of her husband and son). But the basic facts remained: even at her worst, Allura vastly preferred to nurse her wounds alone.

And judging by his tight expression and strained jawline, Shiro was much the same way.

“I think there’s towels here,” said Shiro, leading them to a bathroom down the hall. His voice was steady, but he didn’t look at her. Allura followed, wishing she knew what to say.

Shiro opened a cupboard with several bath towels in it, and Allura immediately took one to start wringing out her hair. It was stringy and sticky against her hands and was going to look terrible, too, until she could get conditioner in it again but by tying it into a knot on top of her head she could at least avoid the worst of it. She really wished she could change out of her wet clothes, too, but Shiro would probably take her removing her clothes in entirely the wrong way.

And just as she was thinking that, Shiro fumbled the towels and swore.

“Are you all right?”

Shiro didn’t answer. He almost looked in pain. With an awkward twitch of his shoulders, he flopped his right arm onto the counter where it landed with a dull _thunk_. There was something unnatural about the way it just _sat_ there. One of the fingers twitched once, spastically, and then went still. Shiro collapsed over his arm, forehead hitting the bathroom mirror and his bangs leaving wet streaks where they sprayed across the glass. His face was scrunched up and his lips were moving with words too quiet to hear.

Shiro’s jaw seized up, and then he slammed his natural fist against the counter.

Allura jumped. “Shiro?” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound as scared she felt. “Shiro, is something—What’s wrong?”

Shiro didn’t lift his head from the mirror or open his eyes, just gestured with his left hand. “This thing cost more than my car. Hell, it cost more than my _parents’_ cars. I— _Damnit_.”

It took Allura a minute to figure out what was wrong, and then her eyes widened with horror. “Your prosthetic. Is it not—?”

“Waterproof?” finished Shiro with a bitter snort that told Allura all she needed to know.

“Maybe it just needs to dry off?” she offered, even knowing it probably wouldn’t work but desperate to make something better. “Let me get at the towels.”

Shiro’s jaw worked as he finally lifted his head off the mirror. He started messing with the point where his prosthetic met his arm.

Allura awkwardly juggled the towels. “What are you…?”

“Well, it’s not doing me any good right now, is it?” said Shiro. And he pulled the arm off.

Allura tried not to stare. It wasn’t that—She had always known Shiro was missing a limb, but it turned out her brain had interrupted it as “Shiro’s right arm is made of metal.” It was different to see it just—end. Shiro’s arm went down to maybe an inch or two above where his elbow should be, and…that was it. He was now pulling off the compression sock that went under his prosthetic, and Allura could see the rolled skin at the nub and the surgery scars that ran up and down his arm.

And Shiro was avoiding looking at her.

_That_ forced her to stop being stupid. No point in being weirded out by something she had always known. Especially when there was no _reason_ to be weirded out in the first place.

And it hurt to see Shiro looking so raw and wounded.

“Here,” said Allura, pushing the towels on the counter. “Does your arm open up? I think we’ll have better luck drying it from the inside.”

“Yeah,” said Shiro. “There’s a latch. Here.”

Shiro tried to show her how it worked, but with only one hand and the arm wet and slippery, it wasn’t easy and that frustrated line between Shiro’s eyebrows was deepening.

“Can I check it out?” said Allura. Without really waiting for answer, she scooped the arm into her arms. “I’ve always wanted a closer look at this thing.”

Shiro relinquished it with a hollow, “All yours.”

So that was how Allura ended up finally holding Takashi Shirogane’s hand: squished up against the toilet while he was on the other side of the cramped bathroom, their legs tangled in the middle. It wasn’t quite way Allura had envisioned. For instance, every one of her daydreams had included holding a hand that was, you know…. _attached_.

But it wasn’t all bad. Allura hadn’t been lying: she _was_ interested in a closer look. She was surprised when she opened it up that most the inside was actually empty space. What she assumed were the wires and whatever the arm used for gears were bundled up in sleek metal tubes that built the frame like bones and looked a little like very slender pistons. The base where the prosthetic attached to Shiro’s arm was a bit more complicated and it seemed there was the housing for the electronics and battery pack, but even those were encased in sleek, enclosed metal. Despite apparently not being waterproof, the arm seemed to be designed to weather at least some exposure to the elements. Allura began to feel marginally more hopeful. She got to work with her towel.

“You know you don’t actually have to do that,” said Shiro.

Allura glanced up. “I know.” And she went back to work.

A few minutes passed. In that time, Shiro slumped further against the bathroom door and buried his natural hand—right now his only hand—into his hair. “I—Shit. I really screwed up.”

Allura couldn’t truthfully say that was _not_ true, so she said nothing.

“I— _Keith._ I shouldn’t have—” Shiro started shifting around, patting down his pockets. “Damnit. I left my phone. I-I need to—”

“Hey.”

Allura didn’t realize she had used his own arm to poke him until she had already done it. _Oops._ At least she had his full attention now.

“Stop worrying about Keith. No, I know,” she added, seeing Shiro’s objection and holding up her hand to stop him. “You need to talk to Keith. You will. You will apologize to him and make it right. The two of you are going to be okay. But you have to give _yourself_ time to be okay first in order for it work.”

Shiro opened his mouth, paused for a moment, then closed it again. Allura took the opportunity to press on her advantage.

“It’s okay for you to not be okay right now, Shiro.”

Shiro snorted. “What I am is a mess.”

Allura’s hands stilled on Shiro’s prosthetic. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shiro just looked at her.

“W-Well, things sometimes seem less…horrible. Once you get them out,” stuttered Allura. “So I thought perhaps—” Allura shoved her shoulders back and decided if she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly. “I won’t pity you if you want to talk.”

Shiro didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her for so long that it took everything in her not to squirm. Allura met his eyes and did her best to seem…what exactly, she wasn’t sure, but something comforting and approachable.

Shiro’s eyes dropped to his lap. Allura watched his fingers trace out the scars on his right limb.

“I lost my arm last year.”

“I know.” Allura winced. “I mean! I heard—” Another wince. “I knew you lost your arm. But I don’t know any of the details.”

“It was a boating accident. I…” Shiro’s eyes focused far away. He gave his head a little shake. “Some guys invited me to go. One of them was Zarkon. Did you know him?” When Allura shook her head, Shiro nodded and went on. “Makes sense. I think he graduated before you moved here. He was…a piece of work. But Matt was going and it seemed fun, so I figured why not?”

Shiro squeezed the end of his right arm, stared at a spot on his knees. “I don’t actually remember a lot of what happened. The morning was good. I think we switched boats at some point, and for some reason Matt and I weren’t on the same one. I kind of remember thinking someone needed to watch that the rope didn’t get tangled up and then—I don’t know. It’s all a mess. The next thing I remember for sure is being in a hospital bed in a ton of pain and Keith complaining to me about his geography homework.”

Allura lowered her hands from her mouth. “So you have no idea what happened?”

“Oh no, we have the general idea,” growled Shiro. His hand closed tightly around the end of his arm. “I fell on the prop—you know, the motor?—while the boat was going. It tore me up pretty badly. It’s a miracle I’m alive, really.” Shiro paused, seeming to debate whether to continue for a while before finally saying,

“We just don’t know how that happened. Matt swears he saw Zarkon and his girlfriend push me. I don’t—I don’t know. When I try to look back, I can’t get anything. But sometimes I have these dreams where I can’t breathe and I can’t move and—” Shiro broke off, his left hand curling into a fist. He scowled. “I used to love boating—tubing, wakeboarding, everything. And now I can’t even get in the water without a panic attack.”

Allura didn’t like the bitter expression Shiro was sending himself. In her head, she could hear what her father would have said. Something wise, something like _There’s no shame in having a panic attack_ , but…

But she’s promised Shiro she wouldn’t pity him. And true her father’s words might be, but Allura herself would never have believed them in Shiro’s place. Besides maybe Allura was just _tired_ of being the picture perfect Allura Altea who had everything together. So she stopped trying and what came out was:

“I rather like the paddleboard idea.”

Shiro looked up at her in wordless shock and confusion.

Allura rolled her shoulders, the wet fabric of her tank top wrinkling uncomfortably. “It allows you to get back on the water without having to deal with actually getting _in_ the water. It’s like…reclaiming something for yourself. That’s smart.”

“Yeah, right up until the point where I nearly died,” pointed out Shiro.

“Perhaps next time you could take a life jacket?”

Shiro let out a bark of laughter. It wasn’t quite a happy sound, a little cracked and brittle, but it broke the dark glare he had been wearing. He looked up at her through his bangs wet and plastered across his forehead. “I supposed you have an answer for that thing, too,” he said, nodding to his prosthetic still in Allura’s lap.

Allura bit her lip in consideration. “No,” she decided. “I believe you can paddleboard one handed.”

That seemed to hit Shiro harder than she had anticipated. His eyebrows popped up and then it was like watching ice cream melt over a hot surface. He deflated, slumped boneless against the door. It occurred the Allura that every time she had seen Shiro before, he held himself with almost perfect posture. Allura dug her fingers into her thighs.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” said Shiro immediately. “Gosh no. Definitely not. It’s just—” He tilted his head back and groaned in the back of his throat. “I—Jeez, I’m just so _tired_ of people assuming I can’t do things. I hate not being _able_ to do things. I-I…

“You don’t want to hear any of this.”

“No, I think I do,” said Allura with absolute certainty.

Shiro spoke low and fast, like if he said it that way it was less of a burden. “I know people with a missing hand or limb can accomplish amazing things, but that was supposed to be someone else. Not _me_. And I hate it. I hate that I’m going to have to fill out paperwork that says I’m disabled for the rest of my life. I’m so sick of my parents or Keith having to help me with stupid things because I left the arm upstairs or the charge died or I just can’t do it. And everyone keeps telling me how much progress I’m making and how _well_ I’m doing. I know I got so incredibly lucky, just being alive or even _having_ this prosthetic, so it’s not like I should complain, but I don’t feel it. I just—!”

“You want your hand back,” finished Allura quietly.

Shiro looked at her, desperate and miserable. “That makes me incredibly selfish, doesn’t it?”

“No,” said Allura. Because it wasn’t just about the hand, was it? It was about everything that came with it. It was about having to reinvent your vision of yourself after some fundamental part of who you were changed.

“I lost my father a year ago,” she admitted quietly.

It was amazing how Shiro could go from bitter and frustrated to just _kind_ at the drop of a hat. His shoulders came down, his expression opened, and he turned his complete attention on her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. He shook his head. “And here I am complaining about a missing hand.”

“Oh no!” cried Allura. “That isn’t—I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s fine,” smiled Shiro. “Yours is worse than mine anyway.”

Allura dropped her hands. “No, it is _not_ ,” she declared. “That is…” She took a breath to collect herself. “It was rather horrible. Father _was_ my family. And he died so suddenly—”

She choked up. Shiro leaned forward to place his fingers over hers, and Allura found the strength to continue.

“I moved here because of it. When he passed, I couldn’t bear to be in the same city anymore. But ANYWAY—” Allura waved her hand, attempting to stave off the pity inducing word vomit. She tried to pull herself together as much as she could with wet clothes and lake hair.

“I knew it would be difficult, moving here and adjusting, but I thought I was up to it. For a time I was. But it kept going and… It is like you said. I was blessed in so many ways, but I kept wanting to have my father and my old life back. I was sick of grieving, and I just wanted to go _back_. Realizing I never could was like losing him all over again. It’s…”

Allura trailed off, struggling to figure out where she was going with this.

"It just _sucks_ ,” she concluded. “It sucks when you lose something, and it’s still permanent. That is all I was trying to say.”

“I hear you,” said Shiro softly. “But, Allura, you’ve lost so much more than I have.”

Allura ran her thumb over the ridges of Shiro’s prosthetic that was still in her lap. “In a way,” she allowed. “But…My father used to tell me it didn’t do us any good to compete with our hurts. I want to live up to that.”

“Your father sounds like a good person.”

“He was,” said Allura softly. She rolled back her shoulders and shook her head. “But I’m sorry! I just dumped that all on you, and you didn’t even ask—”

“I think if we’re talking about uncalled for oversharing, I definitely win,” said Shiro.

“I just said we shouldn’t compete,” said Allura sharply. “And it wasn’t uncalled for: I asked.”

“Neither was yours, for the record,” said Shiro. “I’ll listen whenever you want to talk.”

It wasn’t the first time Allura had heard those words, but it was the first time she heard them from someone who _got_ it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. And because Shiro _did_ get it, he didn’t feel the need to push.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t get very far in drying your arm, did I?” said Allura, flawlessly changing the subject.

Shiro scooted closer to her. “Let me have a look at it.” His knee brushed her bare thigh, too hot against her chilled skin, and Allura only barely registered him say, “Oh, maybe that’s what’s wrong.”

Then Shiro was leaning into her space, and Allura had to remind herself how to breathe. Shiro continued apparently, _astonishingly_ unaware. “The battery pack isn’t sitting right in the terminal. Do you see what I mean?”

It was pretty hard to think with Shiro leaning so that his chest was nearly against her shoulder, but Allura did her best. Combining Shiro’s instructions with Allura’s two working hands and a bit a sheer stubbornness that could have come from either of them, they got the battery pack in proper alignment again.

Shiro collected his compression sock and reattached the arm. He sent Allura a smile that was mostly nervous.

“All right. Here goes nothing.”

He flipped a few switches inside his arm and then closed the panel with a snap. Allura leaned forward, watching with bated breath. For a moment, there was nothing. But then Shiro lifted his hand and slowly curled each finger.

“It worked!” she cheered.

“Well, it’s not as smooth as it should be. But it’s not completely broken.” Shiro slumped against the toilet, relief draining out of him like blood. “Thank _everything_.”

Allura patted his knee because apparently she had turned into a grandmother. “I told you it would be okay!”

“Well, this is,” said Shiro, looking at his arm. Worry crossed his face again. “ _Keith_ …”

Allura squeezed his fingers. “You’re going to make it okay.”

That got her an odd look and raised eyebrows. “You have a lot of faith in me for someone who just saw how screwed up I am.”

“I don’t think you’re that screwed up,” said Allura honestly. “And I do not believe you and Keith are that fragile.”

Shiro’s breath caught. “I—Thank you.”

“Of course,” said Allura. She knocked shoulders with Shiro. “To go find Keith?”

Shiro smiled and pulled her to her feet.

***

There were only two problems with that plan. The first: Keith was apparently nowhere to be found. The party was still going, almost exactly as they’d left it. It gave Allura a weird sense of vertigo. In the past half hour, she had spilled some of her deepest secrets to Shiro and gotten some his in return, and still there were boys trying to impress each other showing off at volleyball. But Keith wasn’t among any of them. Neither was Lance. Or Hunk. Or Pidge.

Which brought her to the second problem: Allura collected her phone from where it had skidded in the grass and went through her notifications, looking for a hint where they had gone. But besides a few instagram updates and a robo call, there was only one baffling text.

 

**[Unknown number]**

hey is this Allura? If you are Allura you may want

to obtain a different mode of transportation home

because reasons. If you aren’t Allura feel free

to stick with your transportation. Or change it up

idc live your life

 

Allura stared at it long and hard before giving up and asking for help. “Shiro?” she called. “Do you know who this is?”

Shiro had been staring at his own phone, but took a moment to try to decipher the text on Allura’s. “That’s Matt.” He sighed. “At least yours is in English. The text he sent me is entirely in binary.”

“You can read that?”

“No,” said Shiro decisively. “I refuse to let Matt use my arm as an excuse to treat me like a robot.”

Allura snort-giggled, and Shiro tilted his head to one side.

“So you need a ride home?”

“Oh, well, I suppose I do. But don’t you need to find Keith?”

Shiro sighed. “His phone is at home, so I’m guessing the rest of him is, too. I can drive you if you want. I’m heading that way anyway.”

And, well, who was Allura to pass up more time with Shiro? The ride was filled with innocent small talk, Shiro asking Allura about growing up in England and Allura getting Shiro talking about space just to see the dorky excitement that light up his face. All too soon, they arrived at the McClain house.

“Hey, Allura. Wait.”

Allura paused getting out of the car. Shiro had leaned over the counsel to reach her.

“I… Thank you,” he said. “For being my friend today. And—and for everything.”

Allura shrugged her shoulders. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“Not really,” said Shiro. “You get it. That’s…” He shook his head and smiled at her. “You’re kind of amazing.”

Allura could probably power a small country with the magnitude of her blush. It was a miracle she could get any words out at all.

“You’re a little amazing yourself.”

…Not that they were _good_ ones.

Luckily, Shiro seemed to take it in stride. “Only a little?” he smirked.

Allura shoved him hard enough to make him fall sideways into the car door. “ _You_ said ‘kind of’!”

“Hey, be nice to me! I only have one arm!”

“Oh, and that is supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

Shiro’s smile was too bright for words. “I like you, Allura,” he declared.

Trying to hide her racing heart, Allura flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Well, you should. Apparently, I’m amazing.”

Shiro was still laughing as he pulled out of the driveway and Allura waved goodbye like an idiot. But she waited until she was positively sure he was gone before squealing and breaking into a happy dance.

“He likes me! He thinks I’m _amazing!_ Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Still skipping and squealing a little, Allura danced her way into the house and made straight for Lance’s room, intending to berate him with Shiro’s compliments at _least_ a hundred times before the night was through. Only to have that all fall away as soon as she opened the door.

“Oh, Lance. What’s _wrong_?”


	13. Brothers

Keith ran home.

Emotion pounded in him like blood, surging against his ears, but as long as he kept running, it didn’t have to take form. He focused on the ground, the churning of his feet. He didn’t even pay attention where he was going, instead acting on old habits. Before the Shirogane’s had fostered him, back when Shiro was just another kid at the jujitsu gym who had bullied Keith into letting him take care of him, Keith used to run away all the time. Whenever school went badly or people were too much or just staying at his foster family’s place another minute felt like it would suffocate him. He’d break out and run down neighborhood streets until he found the one person who wanted him.

“ _And you couldn’t manage it anyway, so. Back. OFF.”_

Keith pushed himself harder. His muscles burned. He was out of practice, but he kept pushing away. If he hurt then maybe he didn’t have to _think_.

Keith was sweaty and trembling and gross by the time he spotted the familiar silver house. He didn’t want to have to face Shiro’s parents right now. He didn’t want to face anyone. He wanted to curl up in a dark corner somewhere and never have to be seen again. So instead of using any of the doors, Keith went with the tried and true method—scaling the tree to climb through what was now his bedroom window. He climbed onto the branch that would get him there.

And the branch creaked.

_No_.

Keith moved faster. Almost there—

_CRACK!_

Keith’s world shattered beneath him. His stomach swung up to meet his throat. He was falling—there was nothing—and then he landed flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Keith lay there, chest hurting, trying to remember how to breathe.

There must have been voices, noises to clue him in, but the next thing Keith was really aware of was Ryou Shirogane standing over him.

“Keith, buddy, you all right?”

Keith forced himself to at least sitting, refusing to be caught immobile by Shiro’s dad.

Shirogane crouched down to help Keith up anyway. His eyes were sharp, taking in the situation, but his voice was gentle. “I was worried about that tree holding up, what with you boys getting bigger. Come on. Let’s get back to the house and let Akiko assure you’re okay.”

There was really nothing to do but get up and let Shirogane Sr. escort him through the back door to the living room. Akiko was waiting for them and immediately took Keith’s face in her hands, checking him over for bumps and bruising.

"I’m fine,” said Keith stiffly while she checked his eyes for a concussion.

“He’s all sweaty,” Akiko told Shirogane. “I think he ran home again.” She turned back to Keith. “Did you not come home with Takashi?”

“He’s still at the party,” said Keith. He winced a little when Shirogane’s hand came down on his shoulder.

“Anything we can help with, Keith?”

Keith shook his head, but the Shiroganes weren’t so easily deterred. Akiko squeezed his shoulder. “We could just put on a movie and drink hot chocolate on the couch if you want,” she offered.

“No. Look, I’m _fine_ , okay?” said Keith. “I—I’m going to bed.”

The Shiroganes parted like water. Akiko patted his arm as he passed, “Good night, sweetie,” and Keith hated how he could hear _We worry about that kid_ in the way they didn’t fight him.

Keith face planted into his bed as soon as he got to his bedroom, immediately decided that was not the position he wanted to be in, and climbed onto the bed, boots still on, to wedge himself in the corner where his bed met the wall. He tugged his blanket around his shoulders, then over his head like a hood, and pulled his knees up close to his chest. He hated this. He hated feeling out of place, like he was mildew on someone’s cake. He hated how much he wanted it to be different. Because it wasn’t. It was never going to be.

And it sucked because he _liked_ Lance. And for some stupid reason, Lance seemed to _like him back._ And he still managed to screw that up, and Keith had no one to blame it one except himself. Because he was a screw up. Because he never did anything right. Because _damn it, Shiro nearly died tonight—_

Hadn’t the universe already done this already? He pulled his knees closer to his chest. He’d _been_ here before. He’d sat in that hospital room and been so, so scared. And…

_Shiro didn’t die this time,_ said a rough, impatient voice in his head. _He didn’t even get hurt, so it’s **fine**_ **.** _Stop freaking out._

Shiro was fine, so it didn’t matter.

It  _didn’t_.

Now if Keith could just stop panicking and generally having a crisis over it, that would be great. It wasn’t like there was any reason for Keith to be upset anyway. Shiro was _okay_. So why did he still feel like he wasn’t breathing?

Keith was filled with frantic energy, and what he really wanted to do was punch something. But if he did that, the Shiroganes would notice and then they would _know_ something was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Except Keith, who was always wrong and enough of a burden without—without—

_Why_ couldn’t he get the image of Shiro drowning out of his head?

Keith didn’t know how long he spent fighting his own head. Long enough there was a knock on his door, and Keith scrunched up against the incoming headache. “Akiko, you really don’t need to—”

“Not Mom.”

Keith picked his head up and felt his blood freeze in his veins.  

_Shiro._

He was slumped in the doorway. His hair was unkempt, and he was hugging his right arm close to his chest _._ He wasn’t wearing his prosthetic. Or anything besides a ratty pair of pajama pants. Keith normally treasured being one of the few people Shiro allowed to see his bare chest, crisscrossed as it was with scars first from the boat that tried to kill him and then all the surgeries it took to save him. But today the bareness didn’t look like trust. It looked like defeat and exhaustion, and Keith’s heart ached with the inability to fix it.

“I—I am so sorry, Keith.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” said Shiro. “Please, Keith, can I come in?”

Keith didn’t answer, and Shiro took that as tactical agreement, coming into the room and sitting on Keith’s bed. He looked so tired, and Keith wondered how much of that was his fault. Probably most of it. That’s how it normally went for Keith.

“I’m sorry for everything I said to you today,” said Shiro, voice achingly genuine like he was terrified Keith wouldn’t believe him. “I was upset, but I never should have taken it out on you. I’m so _so_ —”

“Will you _stop_ apologizing?” Keith snapped.

Shiro flinched back. “What do you want me to do then?”

Keith turned his head away from Shiro’s too sincere face. “Forget it,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Keith…” Shiro’s tone was too kind and understanding. It only made everything worse. Keith dug his face further into his knees, like that could protect him from the pressure he felt building in his chest. His skin felt too sensitive, alive with tiny little fires that he couldn’t put out.

“Keith, what’s wrong?”

“I thought—” Keith broke off. He had promised himself he would never, _ever_ tell Shiro this and he intended to keep that promise, but suddenly the words were coming, bubbling out of him like bitter soda. “I thought I would never see you again. You were out and they wouldn’t let me see you. No one knew if you would even wake up—”

Wide eyed, Shiro silently mouthed “wake up,” but Keith couldn’t stop talking.

“You weren’t waking up. I thought they were going to take me away again. And I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—I wouldn’t be able to—”

“Keith—” Shiro started to reach for him, but he used the wrong arm and ended up face-planting into Keith’s shoulder instead, startling them both. For a moment, they just stared at each other regaining their bearings. Then Shiro uttered a muttered curse and starting trying to right himself. Keith should be helping. Probably. But right now he was squashed between the wall and Shiro’s bulk and trembling like he had a fever. Eventually, Shiro got himself settled again, now that much closer to Keith, and Keith was still shaking.

Shiro tilted his head to the side like he did when he was confused. “Who was going to take you away?”

Keith shook his head mindlessly. “They were going to give me back. No way they were going to keep me. They—” He ran out of words.

But Shiro had always been the one person who listened to Keith and could fill in the blanks with more than “problem child” and “difficult personality.”

“You thought my parents wouldn’t let you stay?” Shiro spoke like the idea was ludicrous. “Keith, that’s—”

“It’s not crazy!” Keith burst out. “That’s what you DO. A charity case is all fine and good, but when your REAL kid gets messed up, who’s the first one to go? It’s not like I’m actually family!”

“You’re  _my_ family,” said Shiro fiercely.

Keith flung his hands in the air. “Says you! Doesn’t do any good when you’re in a coma, does it?”

Shiro winced and closed his eyes. The Shiro of two years ago wouldn’t have let Keith get away with saying that, but this Shiro had gone through his own version of hell over the past year and this time he considered.

“I don’t think my parents would throw you out,” he said quietly.

Ironically, the qualifier made Keith feel better. Marginally. “They only took me in because you badgered them into it,” he said.

“But they still care about you,” said Shiro. “They _like_ you.”

“Didn’t stop the last family,” said Keith before realizing what he said and promptly clamping his mouth shut. He turned his face back towards the wall, wishing for the first time in a long time Shiro hadn’t come into his life and broken down all the barriers he built to keep himself safe.

“Besides, you were right,” added Keith bitterly. “I’m a burden to everyone else. I can’t help.”

“Keith, I—I _really_ shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s still _true,_ ” spat Keith. He wished he could lace it with the proper amount of indifference, but his voice cracked.

And then Keith was subjected to another Shiro face plant. This one seemed marginally more intentional. Unable to properly hug Keith, Shiro settled for wrapping his single arm entirely around Keith—bunched up knees and all. He finished the hug by digging his chin into Keith shoulder. Most one-armed hugs with Shiro weren’t this awkward, but most the time Keith at least had some choice in participating. Instead he was slowly being pushed into the crack between his bed and the wall.

Shiro buried his nose in Keith’s hair. “No no no. No, Keith, _no_.”

“But I couldn’t—I just make everything _worse_.”

“No, you don’t.” Shiro pushed himself upright (Keith could finally _breathe_ ) and took a deep breath. Sometimes Keith forgot that Shiro was only a handful of years older than he was. He always seemed so competent and put together, but that wasn’t the case now. He looked troubled and young, and the way he pulled one of his knees up against his chest felt far too familiar.

“Listen. There…there was a time I thought I wouldn’t make it.” Shiro’s voice was quiet, and he wasn’t looking at Keith. “I woke up in the hospital and my arm was gone, I couldn’t do anything on my own anymore, everything hurt, and it was like my thoughts just wouldn’t _stick._ Every time I woke up—I was so confused and in pain, and I couldn’t even keep track of  _why_. It was horrible.”

Keith remembered that. It had been a terrifying time. The doctors warned against brief moments of coherence, and every time Shiro slipped away again, it seemed proof they were right. No one knew what extent of brain damage Shiro would have or if he would even come back to them at all. In those brief moments when Shiro was responding, Keith had been stuck between desperate hope and the fear that this was the last moment he would have with his best friend.

He hadn’t known Shiro was scared, though. Every time Shiro had woken up and hadn’t known where he was or what was going on, Keith had only worried that Shiro wasn’t getting better. He had never thought about how terrifying that must have been to be Shiro.

“And then once it _did_ start to sink in what had happened to me, I had to deal with all of it. The surgeries, the therapy. Learning how to move again, how to _feed myself._ I felt so pathetic, and there were times when I thought I just couldn’t keep trying anymore.”

“But you _did,_ ” said Keith. “You never gave up. Ever.”

Shiro bobbed his head to one side. “Yeah. But do you know what kept me going?”

Wordlessly, Keith shook his head.

“ _You_ ,” said Shiro. “You’re the first thing I remember after waking up. Everything changed on me and nothing made sense anymore, but there you were, complaining to me about your homework.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” said Keith.

Shiro knocked his shoulder against Keith’s. “You were there,” he said simply. “You didn’t act like I was someone different because I lost an arm. I don’t think you have any idea how much I needed that.”

The comment was jarring. Keith thought of Shiro as his lifeline, the one person who had caught him when he was spiraling. Shiro had taken on the foster care system and brought Keith _home_. With the help of his parents, but still. Shiro fought impossible odds and chewed them up for breakfast. The idea of him needing someone—needing _Keith_ —was almost too much to imagine.

Shiro shifted uncomfortably. “What’s in your head, Keith?”

As usual, Keith couldn’t manage a proper filter for his thoughts. “You needed me?”

“Yeah,” said Shiro.

“ _Me_?”

“Yeah,” repeated Shiro, this time his voice wavering. “I don’t think you get—” He broke off. Shiro curled in on himself, and Keith slowly unraveled in response. Suddenly, Shiro didn’t look like the cool older brother Keith had never dreamed to have—he looked like a _kid_. Young and lost and needing reassurance. His voice was soft.

“It’s so hard,” he admitted. And maybe he was talking to Keith or maybe he wasn’t; it didn’t matter. “I’m not in the hospital anymore, but it’s still so hard. I’m nothing like I thought would be. I can’t play on the basketball team anymore, I can’t do judo, I can’t bike, I can’t go in the water, some days I can’t even drive. And even if I can do those things, I can’t like I did before, and I’m afraid I let you down. I was supposed to help you out, and instead I went and got broke—”

Shiro stopped there because Keith had lunged and grabbed him by the shoulders, accidentally shoving him into the mattress.

“Are you serious right now?” he growled.

Shiro looked up at him scared and miserable and absolutely serious.

“You think I care if you can swim or throw a basketball or any of the shit like that?” Keith snapped. “You’re my friend! I’ve been following you around like an idiot since I was ten!”

“Because I taught you cool judo throws.”

“Because you _cared_! Do you think anyone else bothered to look twice at the weird kid in the corner with no friends? Or threatened to beat up the eight graders who made my life hell? Or listened despite all the wrong and stupid things I say?”

Keith flung his hands in the air. “Sure, maybe you’re like some Asian version of Captain America or whatever, but that’s not why _anything_. Most guys like that are assholes! I love you because you’re my _brother_!”

Shiro’s eyes went wide. “You mean it?”

Keith shifted uncomfortably, but Shiro started again before he could squirm out of it.

“You never say it back. You always say I’m just your foster brother or friend—or—or—”

“You’re my brother, Takashi.”

It was one thing the shy away because of Keith, because he was scared of what it meant, because every other member of his family had left him. But if _Shiro_ was doubting—

Shiro launched up and pulled Keith into a one-armed hug. Neither of them were exactly braced for that, so they collapsed onto the bed in a tangled mess. “Love you,” Shiro mumbled into Keith shoulder. “Love you so much.”

Keith nodded against the lump in his throat. He shifted a little so that his leg was no longer trapped between his bed and the wall and looked at Shiro. “Just don’t die, okay? I’ve already lost enough family.”

Shiro went wide-eyed again and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. That was really stupid of me today.”

“Yeah it was,” said Keith.

“Sorry.”

Keith socked Shiro in the shoulder, though it was without heat, and rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to stupid things, take me with you.”

Shiro snorted. He shoved himself up against the wall, snorted again, and broke out into snickers. Keith rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. He scooted himself backwards so that he was against the wall beside Shiro, taking the moment to absorb that Shiro was really here and alive and…

And, well, _alive_ didn’t necessarily mean—

“Are you okay?” Keith edged, glancing nervously at Shiro. “I know you don’t want people fussing, but after the lake…”

Shiro leaned against Keith. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “Allura Altea—you know Allura, right?—she’s…”

And then he trailed off without warning.

“Shiro?” said Keith.

Shiro blinked and started. “Sorry. What was I saying?”

Keith frowned at Shiro suspiciously. “You were talking about Allura.”

"Oh yeah.” The weirdest expression crossed Shiro’s face. “She’s just kind of amazing, you know? I mean, I always knew that. Obviously. But it just kind of hit today. She’s _amazing_.”

It had been a long time since Keith had heard Shiro babble like that.

"You want to keep saying the word ‘amazing’?”

Shiro shoved Keith, but he wasn’t looking at him. “She’s…she’s like incredibly smart. And kind. But not a push over. Not even close. She has her own sort of quirky sense of humor. And she’s really pretty.” Shiro shook his head. “Of course she’s pretty. She’s Allura. But she’s, like, _pretty_.” He caught sight of Keith’s face. “What?”

“You have a crush, don’t you?” said Keith.

“What? No, I don’t!” Shiro’s ears turned red, and the blush gradually spread to the rest of his face, matching the dawn of realization. He buried his face in his hand. “No! I did this once already!”

Keith snickered. “Most people have more than one crush in their life, you know,” he smirked. “Try not to trip over your own feet this time, will you?”

Shiro glared at him, still blushing. “Will you ever let that go?”

“I had to hear about Adam for three months. _Three months_ , Shiro! That’s an entire summer of my life I’ll never get back!”

“A summer YOU won’t let me forget!”

“It was traumatizing!” Keith shot back. He put on a high, simpering voice.  “‘ _Oh, he’s so pretty, Keith’ ‘Help me, Keith, I think I’m dying.’ ‘What is this feeling in my chest? I just want him to hold me in his beautiful sculpted—_ ”

Shiro launched himself at Keith. If one thought that being currently one-armed made Shiro any less dangerous, they were astonishingly misinformed. Keith caught Shiro’s hand, but Shiro locked his legs around Keith’s waist and flipped them both off the bed. They landed with a double ‘oof’ and promptly started scuffling on the floor.

The door creaked open. “Oh, look. I thought it was something like this.”

Shiro’s parents were standing in the doorway.

"You boys doing better, then?” smiled Akiko.

Keith waited for Shiro, but Shiro was looking at Keith so Keith had to answer.

“Um, yeah,” he said. “We’re good now.”

“Good to hear,” said Shirogane. He shook his head fondly. “You two are good for each other. I don’t know what we did without you, Keith.”

While Keith was still fire engine red and spluttering, Shirogane and Akiko waved them goodnight. Shiro was snickering, but he sobered up long enough to shove all of Keith’s hair into his face.

"I told you,” he said.

Keith wasn’t about to open his mouth and admit Shiro was right. But privately he was willing to accept that maybe the Shiroganes were more permanent than he had thought. Maybe… Maybe _other_ things weren’t as ruined either. He’d have to think on that later.

After he got Shiro back for flipping him off the bed. His brother was a _jerk_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Shiro was a wee thing of maybe thirteen, Adam Wilde came home from college for the summer and was forced by his parents to get a job as a lifeguard at the local community center. By the end of the summer, Adam had a renewed determination to get an internship the next year so he would never have to clean poop out of a pool again, and Shiro had come to the important discovery that he was very much Not Straight. Overall, it was a very productive summer for the both of them.


	14. Popular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge attempts to be comforting. This goes...about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we finally get back to Lance and...Pidge bonding with Shiro? Why is there Pidge and Shiro bonding in my shallura and klance fic? 
> 
> Because I'm the author and I write what I want, darn it. Enjoy some unexpected Pidge character development!

Pidge hadn’t precisely had plans for her Sunday morning, but whatever vague ideas they were, they certainly hadn’t included waking up to a stream of SOS texts from Hunk and Allura. Normally, this kind of thing would be strictly Hunk territory, but Hunk was stuck babysitting his nieces and Allura volunteered at the Community Center teaching self-defense to girls on Sunday mornings, so that left Pidge.

“And you are sure you can do this?” Allura’s voice sounded tinny and a bit distant, likely on speakerphone. Pidge could hear the rapid opening and slamming of doors in the background. “I wouldn’t ask, but I promised Ryner and I really don’t think Lance should be alone right now—”

“It’s fine, Allura,” said Pidge. She blearily sat up in her nest of blankets and blinked at the light filtering through her window. “I’ll be there in…” Pidge calculated for a moment, mourning impending loss of her bed “…twenty minutes. Can Lance last that long?”

“At the risk of underestimating the dramatic ability of Lance, I would think so.” Allura’s words were joking, but underneath that was a tone of real worry. Pidge forced herself to roll out of bed.

“’Kay. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you so much, Pidge! You’re a lifesaver—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m amazing. I know,” grumbled Pidge. “Run off and teach the tinies how to crush a man.”

“Love you!” called Allura, and Pidge stared at the phone for a long moment until the call ended. She shook her head, decided she would never understand Allura, and started moving.

***

**To: Big Genius (NOT you matt)**

are u sure you can’t escape?

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

sorry pidge. both my gran and sister

got called into work today and

someone has to watch hana and lili

**To: Big Genius (NOT you matt)**

can’t you just put on deadpool or something

and leave them?

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

Pidge

Pidge

that is not how babysitting works

that’s not how any of this works

**To: Big Genius (NOT you, matt)**

then why am I the one babysitting lance?

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

because lance is not under the age of 5

and liable to destroy himself and

everything around him if left alone ?

**To: Big Genius (NOT you, matt)**

questionable

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

point

But someone still has to tend the girls

**To: Big Genius (NOT you, matt)**

But what am I supposed to do!?

people brains don’t work like computers!

that metaphor is super outdated

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

Believe in yourself!

**To: Big Genius (NOT you, matt)**

that isn’t helpful hunk

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

hana and lili are trying to glue

popsicle sticks to the floor. got to go

**To: Big Genius (NOT you, matt)**

HUNK

**To: Fun Sized Genius**

Good luck! <3

***

Twenty five minutes later, Pidge found herself in front of Lance’s door dressed in an oversized t-shirt that used to be Matt’s (actually, probably still was judging by the size. Whoops) and trying her best not to look nervous. Allura let her in, and within two seconds Lance descended upon her in a full body dramatic flop, nearly sending her crashing to the floor when he went boneless on top of her.

“ _Piiiidddddgggggge,_ ” he wailed, his voice taking on a pathetic warble at the end.

“Get off me, you fat lard!” said Pidge. “You’re crushing my spine!”

Lance let out a dry sob and did not get up.

“He really is upset,” said Allura, whose expression was a combination of sympathy and _better you than me._ She hitched up a falsely cheerful smile, “You guys will fine!” and then hightailed it out of there.

Leaving Pidge still attempting to hold up Lance in the hallway. She wouldn’t consider herself _weak_ but holding up someone’s entire bodyweight—even someone as skinny as Lance—was no small task. With some maneuvering, Pidge managed to get most his weight off her spine, and Lance pouted at her pathetically.

And he did look rather pathetic. His eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles under them, and his slouch didn’t have the usual amount of Lance dramatic energy to it. Pidge believed Allura that Lance was actually upset. She just didn’t know what to do about it.

Also, Pidge _may_ have left the house without bothering to put on a bra yet. And while _Pidge_ didn’t see a material difference between wearing society’s dictated boob support or not, Lance’s mom and grandmother kind of scared her and both seemed like the kind of women who would automatically just _know_.

Pidge cleared her throat. “Do you, uh, want to come to my house and play video games?”

Lance stood up long enough to give a smile that was clearly fake. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “And you _obviously_ owe me first pick at avatars this time. Since I’m in distress.”

Lance started toward the door, and Pidge stared at him.

“You’re going like that?”

Lance hugged himself. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You’re wearing blue lion slippers and a snuggy.”

Lance took a deep breath but didn’t say anything. His bottom lip trembled.

“Okay, okay!” cried Pidge panicked. “It’s fine! Don’t worry about it!” She grabbed a snuggy-clad arm and pulled Lance out the door with her.

It was about a twenty minute walk from Lance’s house to Pidge’s, Lance’s snuggy trailing like a train of despair behind them, and the weirdest part of it all was that Lance was _quiet._ He’d respond when spoken to and even made a few jokes, but they lacked Lance’s usual bluster. Even snuggy-clad Lance wasn’t making the ridiculous figure that he should. It was like he just didn’t have the energy for his normal level of drama.

And Pidge didn’t know what to do. Normally she could get Lance out of a funk by making fun of him so much that he fell victim to his own ridiculousness. And, if that didn’t work, she turned the job over to Hunk. But Hunk had foolishly, _stupidly_ left her to deal with this on her own, and Pidge was honestly kind of afraid to make fun of Lance now. He looked like one wrong word might break him.

Pidge needed to fix this ASAP. Except she wasn’t even sure what was _wrong_. All she knew was that she and Hunk had gone looking when they hadn’t seen Lance and Keith around for a while (Okay, so they were hoping to catch them making out. Sue them), and what they had found was Lance alone, crying. Lance had blubbered nonsense that magically made sense to Hunk, and Pidge had run off to find Matt while Hunk comforted Lance and Pidge tried not to feel excluded or useless because she couldn’t understand their unspoken language.

Pidge wasn’t dumb. She was certain it had something to do with Keith, and if she had to guess, Keith had rejected Lance in some way, which didn’t make _sense_. All the information she had gathered said that Lance and Keith liked each other; ergo, they should go out. It was as simple as that! Part of Pidge wanted find Keith and make him make things right with Lance. But people always seemed to have some variable she hadn’t accounted for and never worked out the way she planned.

When they got to the house, Pidge let them in through the garage door, past the whiteboard where all the Holts recorded their whereabouts (in a family full of distracted scientists, just telling anyone where you were going was a guarantee the information was going straight into a black hole—hence the whiteboard), and upstairs to her room.

Pidge opened the door, and Lance spoke for the first time in five minutes.

“Wow. You really know how to treat company, Pidge.”

“No one told me you would have a crisis at eight in the morning!” said Pidge defensively as she stepped over the abominable snowman that she’d made of her dirty clothes instead of doing laundry and kicked the various pieces of last week’s project out of the way, attempting to clear a path across the floor. She started digging through a laundry hamper that was filled with books, old game consuls, and one of Matt’s shoes that she kept forgetting to give back. “Give me a second. I’m looking for something.”

“Can’t imagine why you can’t find it,” drawled Lance as he picked his way to the bed.

“Shut up,” said Pidge.  “I’ve seen your room.”

“Um, my room does not look like the interior decorating was done by a two year old.”

Pidge finally found what she was looking for. “Will you just—” She trailed off in awkward annoyance and thrust her find into Lance’s chest. “Here.”

Lance nearly toppled backwards onto the bed. “Huh?” He looked down at the fuzzy green “Trash Creature” as Pidge called it, a name that had stuck for so long she didn’t even remember where it came from. It had big eyes and two reflective triangles beneath them that glowed when you squished the belly, and green fur was so soft it should be illegal. Lance cradled it awkwardly in his arms while he looked quizzically at Pidge.

“You said you wanted to steal it from me,” she said, feeling her ears go red. “And you were having a bad day, so…” She shrugged and tried to keep her expression neutral instead of shamefaced.

“Oh,” said Lance. “Thanks, Pidge.”

He smiled, but he still looked sad. Pidge needed to _fix_ this. She racked her brain for other methods to try.

“Um, here’s my weighted blanket.”

“Pidge, you don’t have to—”

“And this has cool old-school games that won’t run on modern systems anymore.”

“Pidge—”

“OH! Hot chocolate! I’m going to go get you hot chocolate too!” And with that, Pidge fled out of the room.

She ended up in the kitchen before the shame caught up with her. She shouldn’t have run away. Even _she_ knew that abandoning someone was friendship no-no. But the idea of sitting spending another moment of having to watch sad Lance without being able to _do_ anything about it made her want to crawl out of her skin. This was why Lance and Hunk had been best friends since second grade while Pidge had been…

For the first time almost a year, the ache of loneliness from elementary school (and middle school annnnd the beginning of high school…) caught up with her again. Shaking her head, she tried to knock the feeling out. Pidge didn’t have time for feeling lonely. She filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove, pretending she was just doing the thing properly instead of stalling for time. She had climbed onto the counter to dig out the hot chocolate mix (Why did Matt keep the good stuff on the top shelf? He was short, too!) and was just starting to wonder what she was going to do while she waited for the water to boil when she heard voice coming from the living room. She hadn’t realized anyone else was home, so she made her way over to investigate.

As Pidge got closer, the voice turned into words.

“…sweetie, aren’t you? So soft. Such a good boy. Look at you. Yes, you. You’re the best, do you know that?”

There was only one person in the world who loved the Holt dog that much.

The back of Shiro’s head was just visible over the back of the couch. He was almost bent in half, rubbing baby-talk and praise into a very patient looking Gunther. As Pidge got closer, she could see he was wearing a black short-sleeved t-shirt—and no prosthetic.

Pidge’s stomach went cold. She’d seen Shiro without his arm plenty of times, but things hadn’t been the same since his accident. They had already been _off_ before, but then the accident happened and Shiro had come back just a little shakier, holding himself just a little differently, and Pidge hadn’t been there. She hadn’t _helped_.

Pidge must have somehow made her presence known because Shiro looked up and gave her a smile.

“Hey, Pidge,” he said, same as always.

“Why are you here?” Pidge blurted out because Pidge and tact were passing acquaintances at best.

Shiro cut his eyes away from her for just a second. “Um, well… So it turns out that going out on the lake with my arm on probably wasn’t the smartest idea.” The tips of Shiro’s ears were red, and he wouldn’t look directly at Pidge now. “I came to ask Dr. Holt if she could maybe fix it up and…nottellmyparents,” Shiro finished in a mumble.

Oh, that made sense. Pidge’s parents had been the ones to design Shiro’s arm in the first place. Pidge actually thought Shiro’s arm was the coolest piece of tech she had ever seen: the way it read and recreated Shiro’s neuro-signals was nothing short of amazing. She didn’t often get the chance really see how it worked, and the idea of watching how her mom fixed the water damage sounded _fascinating_.

But the tug of guilt kept Pidge in place. Shiro was curled up with her dog on her couch, same as ever, and Pidge—

“I’m sorry!” she burst out.

“For what?” said Shiro, sounding genuinely confused.

“For not inviting you to my birthday party,” admitted Pidge.

Shiro laughed. “You don’t have to apologize; I was teasing. You know I’m not going to get upset because you found other friends.”

Pidge flinched and stared at her shoes.

“Hey.” Shiro’s voice turned soft. “Pidge, are you okay?” It was the same voice he’d used when she was ten and the other kids in the class had made fun of the genetics textbook she had brought in for show and tell. Matt had told her the other kids were stupid and probably didn’t know the difference between natural selection and epigenetics anyway, but Shiro had sat next to her on the sidewalk and let her explain exactly what she found so fascinating about the structure of DNA.

Shiro had always been a sort of extra older brother, ever since Matt befriended him in the eighth grade, only more patient and less likely to tease her. Well. Most the time, anyway. Pidge had lost count of the number of snow banks and pools and leaf piles Shiro had thrown her into (something that Matt and his nerdy noodle arms hadn’t been able to do since Pidge was _eight_ ).

But the point was, for years Shiro was someone who was just _there_ with the same kind of affection (and occasional exasperation) as Matt, and stupidly, Pidge had never thought to question if to others he was anything else.

Until last year. Until for the first time in her life, she was in the same school as Shiro, and the differences between them became blatantly obvious.

“Pidge?” asked Shiro, softer now.

Pidge put her face in her hands and rubbed at her eyes under her glasses. “I’m stupid,” she muttered.

Shiro laughed a little, but it was a soft sound. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“I was really dumb,” insisted Pidge.

“Not the same thing as being stupid.” Shiro tilted his head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Without even thinking, Pidge climbed into the space Shiro had left for her one the couch, pulling her legs up against her chest and curling around them. She looked over the tops of her knees at Shiro, who had one leg tucked up under him and was running his one currently attached hand through Gunther’s fur with easy familiarity. Honestly, some of the worst part of it was realizing how much Shiro was exactly the same; Pidge had just missed it.

“I didn’t realize you were popular,” she admitted.

Shiro went pink.

“Ah, I’m not really…”

“You were crowned at Homecoming. _Three times._ ”

“Okay, so some of that was definitely Matt—”

“Still!” said Pidge, waving her hands. “Everyone knows you, and everyone _likes_ you! You’re _cool_.”

Shiro was now very pink. “Um, I’m actually not cool. At all. I thought you knew that.” He pursed his lips and considered her. “But even if I was, what does that have to do with anything?”

Pidge set her chin on her knees. “I’m not.”

“You’re plenty cool, Pidge!”

Shiro sounded so sincere it almost sparked a light in Pidge’s chest. Almost.

“I don’t…I’m not very good at people,” Pidge confessed. “Or having friends. And I guess I didn’t realize you were.”

Shiro was frowning. It took him a few seconds to come up with a response. “It’s mostly fake, you know,” he said finally.

“Huh?” said Pidge.

“Being easy with people. I got good at it I guess, but it’s mostly fake. There’s only a few people I really feel comfortable around.”

“Oh,” said Pidge, not sure what to make of this new information. She had always known Shiro was a bit reserved, but she’d always chalked that up to just preferring to keep things close. Pidge knew there were plenty of things she preferred not to share with everyone.

…But how much of that came from having her interests made fun of as a kid?

“So did you think I wouldn’t want to hang out with you because you’re not some arbitrary definition of cool?”

Shiro sounded worried, maybe even hurt. Pidge’s stomach tangled into knots.

“No, that’s not it!” she said quickly. “I—I didn’t want to be the lame little sister who only hung around you because she couldn’t make her own friends! And…yeah, maybe I was a little embarrassed that I wasn’t as cool as you and Matt.”

Shiro snorted. “You think _Matt_ is cool?”

“ _No_ ,” said Pidge immediately. She blew her bangs out of her face. “But he just… _fits_ somehow. And I don’t.”

“Ah, Pidge.” Shiro reached out and ruffled her hair like she was a distressed puppy. Pidge tried to pretend to be annoyed but didn’t get very far. She’d _missed_ this. Matt was great. Matt was her favorite brother ( _only_ brother, he’d point out). But he wasn’t really good about talking about the emotional side of things. Shiro had a way of making everything you felt feel okay.

“I know how you feel,” said Shiro, dropping his hand back to Gunther.

“Really?” said Pidge. “You?”

Shiro shrugged. “My family moved around a lot before we moved here. And I was always the new kid with a name no one could pronounce. It made it hard to fit in.”

Pidge scooted a little closer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

She  _hated_ not knowing things. She didn’t like how often working with people threw her in this situation.

“It’s okay,” soothed Shiro. “Things are better now. And they’re better for you now, too, right? Those were your friends at the party, weren’t they?”

Pidge started to nod, but the mention the party reminded her of Lance and how she was failing and her mood crashed again.

Shiro watched her with concern. “Hey, Pidge,” he said. “What’s _really_ wrong?”

“One of my friends got hurt, and I’m a horrible friend.”

“Why?” said Shiro simply.

“Because I can’t make it better!” Pidge burst out.

Shiro studied her for a moment. “Do you mean you hurt your friend and you don’t know how to apologize or…?”

“No, it’s not _my_ fault. I’m not the stupid one here. But he’s sad and I can’t FIX it!”

For a moment, Shiro just blinked at her—

Then he started laughing. Pidge pouted at him, a mixture of hurt and offended. Shiro covered his face with his hand, but it did nothing to hide his chuckles.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, waving at her. “It’s just so _you_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” pouted Pidge.

Shiro grinned at her. “You’re so smart and brilliant, you expect to get everything right away. Remember when it took you longer than ten minutes to figure out a Rubix cube? You took the entire thing apart just to show it who’s boss.”

“It was stupid,” muttered Pidge, still annoyed that she hadn’t been able to immediately solve it the first time she tried.

Shiro laughed again. “Yeah, so people don’t work like that.”

“People are STUPID!” declared Pidge flopping dramatically back into the couch cushions.

Shiro was outright snickering now. “I really don’t understand how you and Keith aren’t better friends. You two are so alike.”

“He didn’t get my conspiracy theories,” said Pidge.

She tried to make it a joke, but it came out with a tinge of hurt.

Because when Shiro had started bringing his angry shadow around a few years ago, Pidge had  _tried_ to befriend him. But Keith hadn’t gotten it. And then Pidge was lonely and embarrassed and Keith refused to leave Shiro’s side, so…

“Yeah, Keith’s a bit too literal for that,” said Shiro with a found smile. It was hard not to feel jealous: at one time, _she_ was Shiro’s socially-awkward adopted baby sibling. But then Keith came along and—and—

And now, still, Shiro was considering her with the same kind of individual attention he had always shown her before.

“Do you want my advice?”

Pidge straightened, surprised at this turn of events. But, really, if anyone could give her advice on how to deal with this, it made sense it would be Shiro. “Sure,” she said.

“You don’t have to fix anything for your friend,” said Shiro. “Most the time people don’t even want their problems fixed.”

“But that’s doesn’t make _sense_ ,” said Pidge.

“People don’t make sense sometimes,” said Shiro with a smile and a shrug. “But, seriously, my guess would be that what your friend really needs is to know that you’re there.”

“And then what?”

“That’s it,” said Shiro. “Just be there and show that you care.”

“But I don’t know how to _do_ that!”

“How would you do that for Matt? Or for me?” Shiro smiled at her like Pidge hadn’t practically run away from him when she became uncertain. “There isn’t a right way to do it. But people can tell your intentions and that’s what matters.”

Shiro seemed to consider her and took pity. “If you really don’t know what to do, you can always ask.”

Pidge chewed her lip. “Isn’t that cheating?”

"Of course not,” snorted Shiro. “No one can expect you to be a mind reader.”

Pidge took a deep breath. That was…she’d kind of rather a series of very blatant steps, but this was something concrete. She could work with this.

“Okay,” said Pidge slowly. She unfurled from her position on the couch. “Thanks for the advice, Shiro. I should probably get back to my friend now.”

“No problem,” smiled Shiro. Something crossed his face. “Uh…what do you mean ‘get back to your friend’?”

“I kinda left him… in my room… alone.”

Shiro was watching her with very precisely raised eyebrows.

Pidge flung her hands up. “I panicked!”

“All my friends are disasters,” said Shiro in a numb voice.

Pidge should have been offended, but too much of her heart was swelling at being called Shiro’s friend again.

***

“Oh, hey, you’re back. I was starting to think you’d left me to drown in my tears.”

Lance was on his back, hanging his head of the edge of the bed, but a very un-Lance-like still. No jiggling legs or twitching figures at _all_. It made Pidge distinctly uncomfortable.

Also, Pidge just realized, _Shiro knew Keith._ She should have asked him to just fix all this!

Except Shiro would probably have some kind of useless advice like “Let them work it out on their own” and where would they be if Pidge left it at _that_?

But leaving yet again now would to the exact opposite of showing Lance that she cared.

“I put cinnamon in yours,” said Pidge, handing Lance a bright blue mug. Except Lance was still upside down, so she really ended up setting it on his stomach and Lance nearly spilled hot chocolate all over her bed when he attempted to get upright. Pidge snatched it back just in time, Lance clambered into a position that was vaguely vertical and then held Pidge’s mug while Pidge climbed onto the bed next to him. She took the mug back and scooted to nudge her shoulder against Lance.

She’d been trying to practice what to say on her way up, but she hadn’t been able to come up with anything she was satisfied with. She clung to Shiro’s words: _it’s your intentions that matter._

“I’m sorry I left,” she said to her knees. “I wanted to make you stop being sad, but I didn’t know how to do that, so I kind of freaked out. I’m not very good at this. I’m sorry.”

“Awww, Pidgey, you do care,” Lance cooed. He even pulled out arm out of his despair snuggy to wrap it around Pidge’s shoulder. “And I know you’re a disaster about emotions, but I don’t care!” he declared. “I like you the way you are.”

Pidge looked up at Lance. “But I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” said Lance. His lip trembled a little, and he stared into his cup. “But, um…I think this is just going to hurt for a little while.”

Which was _stupid_. Pidge hated the idea that there was something she couldn’t fix for her friends, but Shiro seemed to think that wasn’t necessary and well…

Shiro knew a little about unfixable situations, didn’t he?

Pidge decided to take the second part of his advice. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

Lance looked surprised, but then his expression cracked and Pidge got her first real smile out of him all morning. It was soft and a little small, but _real_. Lance squeezed her tightly before smiling at her again, this time a little stronger.

“Can we play those video games you promised me? I’m kind of done with thinking right now. _And_ I want to spend time with my bestest friend Pidge.”

“I thought Hunk was your best friend,” said Pidge.

Lance made a sound like a vacuum choking on a sock. “Best friend is a _class_ , not a person! I can have multiple best friends, thank you very much, and you are in the _bestest_!”

Pidge felt like a mini supernova was exploding in her chest. She beamed and slipped off the bed.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?”

“Matt got a new game, and you’d really like it! It’s got all these different characters and skins and the worldbuidling is super intricate. I haven’t even unlocked it all…”

Once again, Pidge darted out of her room—this time dragging Lance along with her.


	15. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro catches ~feelings~
> 
> ...and also onto the plot. RIP Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were looking for Langst, we have finally arrived at the Langst. With a heavy dose of brogane chaos lol

Thing was, Shiro’s Monday started off normal enough. Dr. Holt had been able to get his arm back in working condition again, thank every and any higher power, and had even agreed not to tell his parents. (“You’re normally a thoughtful kid,” she had said kindly. “I imagine nothing I can say is different from what you’ve already told yourself.”)

So Shiro went through the usual process of attaching his prosthetic arm and getting ready for the day, fended off his dad’s attempts to get him to eat breakfast—eating this early made him feel sick, he didn’t _care_ if it was the most important meal of the day, he’d mooch off of Matt’s supply of protein bars after second period like he did every day, _no_ , he didn’t feel bad about that, what else were friends for?—and then piled a half-asleep Keith into his car to drive to school.

As they drove to school, Keith slowly blinked himself into awareness while nibbling at the toast Shirogane had foisted on him (Keith hated breakfast as much as Shiro did, but he was significantly worse at saying no to Shiro’s parents). Music was sometimes too much for Keith in the morning, so Shiro normally waited until Keith was awake enough to punch on the radio, but today Keith didn’t seem to get to that point. Instead he picked at the seams of his jacket, not even glancing out the window.

Something was eating at Keith. They were better after their talk on Saturday (Shiro was still riding the high of Keith calling him his brother), but he was beginning to suspect something else had happened there that he wasn’t privy to. But Keith wasn’t saying and when Keith decided he didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t going to. The best Shiro could do was wait. Let Keith work things out in his head and be there to listen when Keith was ready.

It kind of killed him, but Shiro trusted Keith. He trusted _them_. Keith would come to him if he was needed, and Shiro would be there for him when he did. It was how they worked. Just like how Keith would always be the first one to jump to Shiro’s defense whenever _he_ needed him.

So Shiro walked into school, worrying about homework, debate team practice, Keith—the usual, and for maybe ten minutes managed to forget that it was anything but an ordinary, forgettable Monday.

And then he walked into his physics class.

Logically, Shiro knew that Allura looked much the same as she always had, but… had her hair always looked that soft? Had her style always fit her so perfectly? Had she always had this aura of effortless beauty, and he just _missed that_?

Shiro’s knees went weak. He dropped into his seat next, ignoring whatever Matt said to him, instead trying to make sense of the sudden ache in his chest. Allura had her back to him, talking to Romelle, and suddenly, Shiro wanted her to look at _him_. He wanted her attention in a way he wasn’t sure he had wanted from another person before. She was beautiful and breathtaking, and Shiro just wanted her to _notice_ him while at the same time horrified at the at the idea of her catching him staring…

And as if drawn by his racing heart, Allura turned around from her seat in the front and looked straight at him.

And she _smiled._

Shiro felt a little like he’d just received an electric shock if electric shocks also felt like bubbles fizzling under his skin.

Allura waved at him. She tilted her head and mouthed something while holding up and tapping her wrist.

Somehow the two brain cells still firing in his head managed to interrupt her message.

_How’s your arm?_

Dazed and barely able to smile back, Shiro lifted his right hand. He wiggled the fingers: _Fixed._

Allura beamed and did a tiny victory punch. _Yay!_ she mouthed. It was possibly the cutest thing Shiro had ever seen. Allura started to mouth something else, but Mr. Harris cleared his throat loudly.

“Ahem! If Miss Altea would please turn around and pay attention so that we can start—!”

Allura shot Shiro a quick, embarrassed smile and turned to front. Mr. Harris may have started class at that point. Shiro didn’t know. He was too busy becoming aware of his flushed cheeks and pounding of his heart and the colors that appeared in Allura’s white hair under the terrible florescent lights.

And then Allura got bored of the homework overview Mr. Harris was going through and did an impatient little _butt wiggle._

Shiro immediately looked down, ears burning red. He considered trying to watch the board again but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he dove for his phone.

***

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Mayday! Mayday!

SOS

HELP

**To: Takashit**

What?

What is it?  
 

SHIRO!

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

help me what’s happening to me I think I’m going to die

**To: Takashit**

this better be u being freaking dramatic again

what is it?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

ALLURA

**To: Takashit**

oh

uh, and…?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

NOBODY TOLD ME HER HAIR WAS WOVEN

BY ANGELS OR I DON’T KNOW IM NOT A POET

I KINDA CANT BREATHE RIGHT NOW

HELP

**To: Takashit**

so u have a crush basically

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

do crushes normally feel like youre about to die?

**To: Takashit**

YES.

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

oh.

seriously?

like how has the human race survived this long?

**To: Takashit**

beats me. im gay

**To: Pointy Ball of RAge**

Oh no.

She looked at me

WHY IS SHE DOING THIS TO ME?

**To: Takashit**

really shiro?

how are you the smartest person i know?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

obviously u made a huge mistake somewhere

…

this is even worse than with adam

at least then I knew it was never going to happen.

But Allura’s my age and a friend so it’s like there’s a possibility

Except she’s out of my league it isn’t even funny

**To: Takashit**

are u being serious right now?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Yes?

**To: Takashit**

give me sec

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

?

**To: Takashit**

Shiro, you are absolutely crazy if you think Allura’s not in your league

 

You are the bravest, kindest, strongest person I know. Pretty

 much every good thing in my life is because of you.

 

You think Allura is out of your league? How about 4.0 GPA,

captain of the debate team, made varsity in three sports, lost

an arm, went through six months of recovery, and STILL

shows the rest of us up every day. And somehow none that

 managed to turn you into a massive asshole. You are the best

kind of person there is, and Allura is a freaking idiot if she

doesn’t see that.

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I… Wow, Keith.

when you decide to express yourself you really go all in

**To: Takashit**

im just telling the truth

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Keith im touched

like I might be tearing up right now

**To: Takashit**

It wasn’t that good?

Im just telling you what everybody already knows

 

also you should stop freaking out

because allura already wants to date u

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Wait.

WHAT?

**To: Takashit**

i thought it was obvious?

even I picked up on it

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Me???

Are you texting the right person?

…

Allura??!??

**To: Takashit**

hold on. this calls for drastic measures

***

“Oh no,” muttered Shiro, just as the classroom door banged open.

Keith stormed into room, grabbed Shiro by the shoulders, and shook him violently. “Of course, you idiot!” he shouted. “You’re hot!”

“Kogane! Why are you not in your class?” barked Mr. Harris. He grabbed Keith by the elbow and started steering him toward the door.

Keith twisted around to glare at Shiro. “You got that?” he demanded.

Shiro was stuck between startled and bursting into laughter. “Got it. Loud and clear.”

“OUT, Kogane!”

“Love you!” Shiro yelled as Mr. Harris frog marched Keith out of the classroom.

Keith froze, scowling, and finally flung his hands up with a, “Fine! Love you too!”

Shiro beamed.

“Aw. He loves me,” he said to Matt, still grinning.

“Shiro, that kid would die for you,” said Matt.

“Yes, but he admitted to _feelings_. Emotional honesty. For _me_.”

Matt studied Shiro for a long time. “I can’t tell if you and Keith are good for each other or caught in a downward spiral of enabling each other.”

“Probably both,” shrugged Shiro. “What were we supposed to know about gravity?”

***

Two hours later and on the other of the school, Lance was building a small mountain range out of grated cheese. To be fair, he was in Home Ec—no, wait, they renamed it _Consumer Science_ —so the cheese wasn’t exactly out of place. But Hunk had abandoned him to argue with the teacher about of salt (How was that a point of contention? It was salt! But apparently, no, it was _not_ just salt, and Hunk and Mr. Sal were drawn into a long debate about the flavor profile of Celtic versus Himalayan).

Lance and Hunk had already put their cheese-stuffed garlic knots in the oven, so Lance was left to his own devices while waiting for them to bake. Lance liked Consumer Science. It was hands on and one of few classes Lance was just _good_ at, even if he got made fun of for enjoying it. But he could just pretend he took the class to meet hot chicks (not that that was a _lie,_ exactly). Even better, Mr. Sal didn’t care if they talked among each other the entire class as long as they got the assignment done, which meant Lance basically got ninety minutes of uninterrupted gossip time with his best bud.

Or he had until they’d entered the cooking unit, and it turned out Hunk was physically incapable of letting a single sub-par cooking practice go.

It should have been fine. It would have been fine if Lance hadn’t been counting on quality time with Hunk to make up for the ache he got in his chest when he was saw Keith this morning.

Darn it. But why had Keith _left_ him?

Lance fought down the storm of emotions that swirled up at the thought. No. Not the time. He had cheese mountains to make. If he could just make it through the school day—

“…is going out with Keith Kogane!”

Lance’s head snapped up. The group of girls who worked at the station next to him and Hunk had also finished their garlic knots and were gossiping merrily. Lance had been trying to ignore them (last time he eavesdropped, he learned more about Maddie Sander’s quest for birth control than he _ever_ wanted to know), but at the mention of Keith’s name that flew out the window.

“ _What?_ ”

All four girls turned to look at him, and Lance briefly considered pretending it was someone else who had spoken and he wasn’t at all invested, but _No_ , Lance decided, he was _very_ invested in this.

Lance placed both hands on counter between them. “What’s this about Keith Kogane?”

"Apparently he’s going out with _Shiro!_ ” said Ezor, sounding equal parts scandalized and excited.

“That’s the rumor anyway,” said Axca, who was cleaning under her nails with one of the steak knives.

“It still seems like the most likely option,” said Narti, which was odd because up until this point, Lance wasn’t entirely sure he had heard Narti speak.

“Where’s the rumor coming from?” demanded Lance.

“ _Well_ …” drew out Ezor. “The rumor is that Shiro asked Keith to the winter dance—”

“It can’t be that,” interrupted Axca. “It’s way too early to ask someone to that.”

Ezor huffed angrily. “Asked Keith to _something_ then, and Keith practically broke down the classroom door to say yes!”

Lance looked weakly between the two of them. “Are you sure this isn’t just…the figment of someone’s imagination?”

“Keith definitely ran into Shiro’s classroom,” said Narti. “I heard him. And something about ‘I love you.’”

“AH! IT’S ON FIRE!” shouted Zerthid, the last of the four-girl cooking group, pulling their attention away and reminding Lance to check his own garlic knots before he got chewed out by Hunk for not fulfilling his _one job._

It couldn’t be true, thought Lance as he pulled out the tray, fingers burning through the school’s pathetically thin oven mitts. Lance dropped the tray on the counter and blew frantically on his fingers. Keith didn’t see Shiro like that. Right? They were like pseudo-brothers or platonic life mates or _something_. Keith would have told him if there was something romantic going on between them, wouldn’t he?

Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time Lance was wrong about Keith. What else had he missed? Or Keith hadn’t told him?

Class ended, but Lance was so caught up was he in his churning thoughts, he didn’t notice the boy in question until he nearly slammed right into him.

Keith didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings either. He froze at the sight of Lance, his storm-cloud eyes wide with panic. For a moment, it looked like he might say something, but then he clutched backpack and freaking _sprinted_ away down the hallway.

Lance’s heart, which was already sinking, finally just fell out of his chest and shattered at his feet.

“Oh no,” said Hunk, who had just stepped out of class.

“I…” began Lance. But he didn’t know where to go next. His breath caught, and his eyes were stinging.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Hunk, his arm coming down around Lance’s shoulders. “Let’s go to lunch. Pidge can tell us all about the idiots in her calculus class.”

Lance was not going to cry at school. He was _not_ , no matter how much his eyes watered. “Yeah, okay,” he swallowed and allowed Hunk to drag him along to the rickety picnic table hidden behind the school that he, Hunk, and Pidge had claimed as theirs last year. Pidge was already there when they arrived, pulling out her lunch which appeared to consist of three different kinds of potato chips and a jar of peanut butter.

(When Lance’s abuela got on him about his eating habits, he just _really_ wanted to introduce her to the Holts.)

Pidge was lining her potato chips up in size order across the table but looked up when they arrived. “Hey,” she said. Her eyes tracked between Hunk and Lance. “What happened?”

“Keith,” said Lance, collapsing next to Pidge. Hunk made a sympathetic noise and took the seat across from him.

Pidge bit her lip. “Oh,” she said. “So you heard the rumors, too, then.”

Lance was about to respond, but before he could, someone ruffled his hair and said kindly, “I’m sorry, Lance.”

Lance craned his neck back to look and blinked. “Allura!?”

Allura smiled at him and took a seat on his other side. Lance gawked at her.

“Since when did you eat lunch with us?”

“Since I thought you could use the company,” said Allura. Her eyes were kind but worried. “Is that okay?”

Sometimes, Lance really, _really_ loved Allura. “It’s  _more_ than okay,” he assured, bumping his shoulder against hers. Allura took his hand and squeezed it once before daintily taking out her own lunch.

“I just don’t get how they got started,” said Pidge sounding frustrated.

“You mean the rumors?” said Allura.

“Yes!” said Pidge. “None of the evidence points in that direction, so where did this come from?”

“Everyone knows they’re close,” sighed Lance. On the other side of the table, Hunk's eyebrows suddenly shot up. He met Lance's eyes, but Lance wasn't getting it.

Meanwhile Pidge slapped her hand on the table, crumbling one of her potato chips. “But it doesn’t make _sense._ We’ve been collecting data for ages now, and none of it adds up!”

Hunk’s eye motions had become more frantic, and still Lance was the only one who had noticed.

“I know!” said Allura. “I was there myself, and I _still_ don’t know what to think! For Shiro of all peop— _What_ , Hunk?”

Allura had finally caught on to Hunk’s frantic _Stop now!_ gestures.

Hunk just shook his head, his gaze locked on something behind them, and slowly Lance, Allura, and Pidge turned around.

And there was Shiro. With an awkward expression that made it clear he had _definitely_ caught them gossiping about him.

“I was looking for Pidge,” he said uncomfortably into the silence. He pulled a dollar out of his pocket. “Uh, I never paid you for betting Rover couldn’t fly,” he explained.

Pidge took the dollar, lips twisting. “This is bribery to get me to acknowledge you in public again, isn’t it?”

“Well… Yeah. Petty much,” said Shiro with a shrug of his shoulders while Lance, Hunk, and Allura stared between them in confusion.

Pidge looked at the dollar and then back at Shiro, her face more open than it usually was. “It’s okay,” she said almost gently. “You’re cool enough already. You don’t have to bribe me.”

The grin Shiro sent back at her was so bright that Lance had to wonder what exactly had happened between them. Shiro ruffled her hair (Pidge pretended to be scowling) and took a seat on the other side of Allura. Before Lance could ask exactly what the history was there, though, Shiro took the lead.

“Sorry, but I have to ask: what was this you guys were saying about me?”

“People think you’re dating Keith,” said Pidge bluntly.

Shiro looked confused. “Why?”

“Apparently he burst into a classroom to declare his love for you or something?” said Hunk.

“The exact words were, ‘Of course, you idiot. You’re hot,’” said Allura.

“Oh,” said Shiro. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay, I can see how that could be taken out of context. But we’re not dating. Keith’s my brother,” he added fiercely. “We’re _family_.”

No one quite knew what to say to that declaration, so they didn’t.

Shiro was starting to look confused again. “But shouldn’t you of all people have known that?”

“Uh, well, it’s not like we exactly _believed_ it you know,” babbled Lance in a slightly too high voice. “It was just a rumor, aha…”

Shiro looked slowly around the table, looking carefully at Allura, then Pidge, then Hunk—

(“Hi. I don’t think we’ve actually met. I’m Shiro.”

“Hunk. Nice to meet you.”)

—and finally Lance.

“What  _is_ going on between you and Keith?”

Lance let out a gutted groan and dropped his head onto the table.

“Uh, maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned that,” said Hunk.

“Sorry,” said Shiro, still sounding more confused than apologetic. “I just… What on earth is going on?”

Lance lifted his head off the table. “I want to date Keith but we can’t because of the rules and we were trying to get around them—”

“Wait,” said Shiro. “Rules?”

“The Keith dating rules,” said Lance waving his hand. “Anyway—”

“No, I’m sorry. I need you to go back to the beginning,” said Shiro. “ _What_ dating rules?”

“Keith can’t date unless you date, too,” said Lance.

Shiro was still staring blankly at him. “And Keith told you this?”

“Yes. When I asked him out a few weeks ago.”

As series of odd expressions crossed Shiro’s face. For a second he looked almost pained but his expression cleared again. “All right. And then what happened?”

“We tried to get you a date—”

“That explains some things,” muttered Shiro.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” said Lance. “But anyway, then there was the party on Saturday—”

“You and I set that up,” said Shiro, looking at Allura. “To get _them_ together.” He gestured at Lance.

“Two birds with one stone?” said Allura.

Shiro shrugged as if to say “Fair enough.” He looked back at Lance and understanding slowly grew on his face. “Oh.” His voice turned kind. “It didn’t end well, did it?”

Lance dropped his face back onto the table. “No.” He took a deep breath and couldn’t keep it in any longer. “And now I’m wondering if I screwed it all up or did something wrong or—or if Keith never wanted to go out with me in the first place—”

Lance nearly jumped when Shiro’s hand fell on his shoulder. “No,” said Shiro seriously. “That’s not it.”

He abruptly stood up. “Excuse me. I need to go call my brother an idiot.”

“Huh?”

But Shiro was already up and walking away.

Hunk patted Lance’s head. “You know, for a second there I really thought Shiro might be able to help,” he said weakly.

“There’s nothing _to_ help if Keith doesn’t like me,” moaned Lance. He tried to keep the whine out his voice, but he couldn’t help it.

Allura placed her hand on top on Lance’s. “That’s not necessarily the case,” she offered.

“It kinda looks like the case,” said Pidge. She looked at Lance and then ducked her head down. “I mean, um, I’m sorry, Lance.”

At least he had good friends. Even if—

Suddenly, Shiro swung back around the corner. “Hey, Allura, want to go on a double date with me this Wednesday?”

Allura clapped her hands together. “Oh—yes! I’d love to!”

“Excellent,” said Shiro with a shark-tooth grin. “Bring Lance.”

And then he left, texting furiously on his phone.

***

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

hey buddy

Pro tip: when the guy you have

a major crush on asks you out…

DON’T TURN HIM DOWN

**To: Takashit**

oh no

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

oh yes

**To: Takashit**

who told you?!

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

lance did

ALL of it

**To: Takashit**

crap

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

btw I’m sure my mom will be delighted to find out

you enjoyed watching 10 things I hate about you

with her so much

**To: Takashit**

NO! DON’T TELL AKIKO ABOUT THIS

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

she says it’s mean girls next week

**To: Takashit**

SHIRO

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

don’t turn her down now!

she’s really excited to be bonding with you!!

**To: Takashit**

…fine

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

you should be glad I’m being nice about this.

I could be really jealous.

you wouldn’t watch crazy rich asians with me

**To: Takashit**

BECAUSE YOU MADE ME WATCH IT

THREE TIMES ALREADY

why are you so obsessed with that show?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

it’s just really good??

I want to turn the aisle into a literal river

at my wedding too

**To: Takashit**

you would, drama queen

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

on a unrelated note: you have a date on wed

**To: Takashit**

what.

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

with lance

Allura and I are going out and we’re bringing

you guys along too

**To: Takashit**

WHAT

NO

SHIRO

DONT DO THIS

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Too late.

**To: Takashit**

NO

SHIRO HOW COULD YOU

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

It’ll be a good thing. Trust me

**To: Takashit**

NO IT WON’T

SHIRO WHY

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?

I CAN SEE YOUR TYPING BUBBLES

STOP

STOP NOW

WHY SHIRO?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

…

am i allowed to respond now?

**To: Takashit**

i can’t do this

i can’t face him shiro

i can’t i screwed it up

 he hates me please i CANT

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

serious question: are you breathing?

**To: Takashit**

YES

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Ok, keep at that

But also, I think you really hurt Lance’s feelings on Saturday.

You owe it to him to at least talk

**To: Takashit**

but what if I do it wrong?

what if I mess everything up?

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

At risk of feeding your self-sabotage complex, I

feel the need to point out that you’ve already messed

this up about as badly as you possibly could without trying

**To: Takashit**

gee thanks shiro

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

BUT lance still wants to date you.

He still LIKES you keith

People mess up. That’s part of life. But that doesn’t mean it’s ruined.

You can still have this if you put in the effort

**To: Takashit**

…but it’s lance

I really like him shiro

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

I know

But doesn’t that make it worth it to try?

**To: Takashit**

…

 

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Be brave, Keith

You can do this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering how Shiro could be so cool around Allura--it's only because he's in Big Brother: Save Keith mode. He's going to totally have a crisis when he realized that _he asked out Allura Altea._
> 
> (And she said yes?? What?!!?)


	16. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have our second attempt at a Klance date. Will this one go any better?

“Hair up or down?” asked Allura, holding a handful of her hair back with one hand and three hair ties in her mouth. She fretted back and forth in front of her full-length mirror. “Lance!” she demanded. “Which is it?”

“I don’t know!” cried Lance from where he was moping on her bed. “You look gorgeous in everything! Quit worrying about it!”

Allura let her hair drop in an uncontrolled mess around her face and frowned at Lance. She actually looked slightly hurt. Belatedly, Lance realized his tone might have come off a little harsh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scrubbing his face. “I know you’re really excited about this. I just—”

“I’m  _nervous_ ,” admitted Allura. “I have a date with Shiro! But I don’t know how seriously he meant it.” She started wringing her hands. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard and making this something that it isn’t, but what if he _did_ mean it? I don’t want to look like I’m not interested either!”

It was really hard to stay mad Allura when she was nervous like this. Especially since Allura didn’t _get_ nervous. In any other situation, Lance would be darting around the room, giving outlandish dating advice, and generally making a nuisance of his enthusiasm. Now, Lance rolled off the bed and flopped himself over Allura’s back.

“Allura, you are literally the most beautiful woman in the history of ever,” he said. “Who cares if you look like you’re trying? Shiro would have to be an actual idiot not to appreciate it. Just wear whatever you want and then _rock it_ and no one will be able to say anything against it.”

Allura took a deep breath and settled her shoulders. “Okay,” she said. “Half up then. I can _do_ this!”

“You bet you can!” cheered Lance.

Allura cracked a smile and then looked at Lance. She very pointedly looked him up and down. “Aren’t you going to get ready?” she said rather critically.

“Whaaaaaat?” said Lance. He spread his arms wide. “I thought I’d just go the way I am!”

Allura looked for a moment like she was considering letting it go and just letting Lance suffer the consequences, but then she scowled. “You are _not_ wearing blue footie pajamas to my date with Shiro.”

“I thought we didn’t want to look like we were trying!”

“We also do not want to look like we are an embarrassment to society. Go get dressed!”

“Sheesh, so much for wanting my help—”

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously…” growled Allura, a dangerous look in her eye. Lance immediately waved his hands in surrender.

“I’m going! I’m going! One socially acceptable outfit coming up! No need to murder me!” Still holding his hands up, Lance backed out of the room and into his own to get ready.

Lance was aware that he should be excited or at least less mopey. After all, he finally got his date with Keith! Wooo! Except what he had wanted was an actual _date_ , not the high school equivalent of toddlers being forced to play together by their parents (AKA Shiro and Allura). And maybe he was being picky, but Lance preferred to go a date with someone who would, you know, _talk_ to him. Or condescend to some level of interpersonal interaction. Recently, Keith hadn’t even wanted to look at Lance. Chemistry had been entirely new levels of awkward as Lance fidgeted, unable to resist the urge to babble despite having no idea what to say, and Keith glared resolutely at his notebook.

It hurt a lot, actually. Lance knew that Shiro and Allura thought they were acting for the best, but he hadn’t thought two such intelligent people could be so completely _wrong_. Part of Lance wanted to wear socks with sandals just to prove how much he didn’t care (if only to himself), but the idea of making Allura alone angry was scary enough. Knowing she would also likely have Shiro on her side and they would be working _together_ was a whole ‘nother level of terrifying.

So Lance threw together the least offensive outfit he could imagine and pulled a comb through his hair. Hey, gotta look good even if Keith wouldn’t look at him long enough to notice. Haha.

Ha.

“LANCE!”

Lance jumped. “Wah—Allura!”

“They’re here!” hissed Allura, clutching her hands in front of her. She looked like it was taking her physical effort to stay still. “Are you ready? Come on!”

Wise enough to know not to fight Allura, Lance grabbed the canvas jacket that was still too big for him and joined her. At the top of the stairs, Allura grabbed him by the arms and shoved him in front of her.

“You go first!”

Lance threw his hands up in the air. “Allura, out of the two of us, who do you really think has a valid reason to be freaking out about this?” he whisper-yelped. Or maybe just yelped. Lance didn’t have good volume control. “At least you know Shiro wants to be here!”

Allura’s response to that was to give him a heavy shove in the small of his back, which is how Lance almost started this date with a heavy concussion at the bottom of the stairs. But with a display of athletics that Lance privately thought were very impressive (even if the banister may never recover), Lance made it down the stairs without grievous injury and even vaguely upright. He felt he ought to be congratulated. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it, there was an audience waiting for him.

Lance’s father and abuela were in the entryway talking to Shiro, who appeared to be charming the socks off them, no surprise there, and also looking unfairly hot in dark-wash skinny jeans and black t-shirt. Seriously, how was Shiro even _allowed?_ But he looked over when Lance entered. Or nearly face-planted onto the hardwood. Whatever. It’s all good. Shiro flashed a smile at Lance—then his eyes widened, and he promptly dropped off mid-sentence.

Allura stood behind Lance. She fussed unnecessarily with fall of her skirt, color blooming in her cheeks as she very obviously took in Shiro and his sinfully tight pants.

“Hi,” breathed Allura.

“Hey,” said Shiro sounding somewhat dazed.

Lance was starting to feel very much in the way. He edged to the side, realizing that the only thing that could be worse that being forced on a fake date with Keith would be third-wheeling Shiro and Allura and their discovery of their mutual hotness. Speaking of—where _was_ Keith? Lance would take heartbreaking awkward silence over having to tag along behind those two! Oh no. Keith didn’t come. Keith was so over Lance he hadn’t even show up. Lance—

Totally forgot about the side table his mom had put in the entryway. He hip checked it hard, tripped over the leg, and fell into the front door.

“Um. Are you okay?”

_And…_ someone had seen that.

Wait. No. Lance knew that awkward tone of voice. That someone was—

Keith. Hunched in the corner, not at all subtly hiding behind Shiro, his arms crossed over his chest. Oh, and look at that! His hair was pulled back in a tiny, stubby ponytail. His bangs were already breaking free and rendering it pretty much useless, but it was still ridiculously hot in a very Keith-like way. _Keith_ was ridiculously hot, and why was he even here to witness Lance’s faceplants?

Lance lost all inability to form words and just started laughing hysterically.

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked concerned, but still he didn’t say anything. Lance really wished he would. Maybe then Lance could stop panic-laughing.

“So should we get going, then?”

That was Shiro. No fair _he_ had regained the ability to form words while Lance was still floundering. Allura was at his shoulder, her grin a new kind of frightening. Lance had managed to turn his laugh into more of a hiccup so, you know, progress. Meanwhile, Shiro and Keith seemed to be having some conversation with just their eyebrows that ended with Shiro shoving Keith in the shoulder and Keith huffing loudly.

“Okay. Let’s go,” said Keith. Lance couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, apathetic, or if that was just Keith’s normal for the day. “You coming?” he demanded, looking Lance in the eye for the first time that week.

“Yeah! Sure thing!” Lance squeaked. Really, he’d rather just melt into a puddle of protozoan goo in his room, but Allura and Shiro were blocking any escape back into the house so forward it was.

Keith opened the front door, gestured with his chin that Lance was supposed to follow him (such a _gentleman_ ), and stomped his way to Shiro’s car. Once there, he stopped by the backseat door and just…waited.

“Uh, do you want me to get your door for you?” said Keith.

Lance, who was a little taken aback by everything and, you know, _Keith_ (that stubby ponytail was _distracting_ ), only managed a lost, “Huh?”

Keith opened the car door. “Just get in, okay?”

“ _Alll_ -right,” said Lance, not about to argue with ponytail!Keith. On the other side of the car, Shiro and Allura were doing basically the same thing only without the awkward pauses and with more blushing.

Well… Lance took stock of his own face. He wanted to believe it was more blushing.

“So!” said Lance, once everyone had gotten into the car and Shiro was pulling out of the driveway. “Any idea where we’re going? Because no one bothered to tell me, and now that I think of it, that kind of makes dating like a socially acceptable form of kidnapping which is like—”

“Shiro,  _no_!” interrupted Keith, suddenly lunging forward. This was the most lively Lance had seen Keith all week. “Give me the aux cord,” he demanded.

“What?” said Shiro. “No, driver gets music privileges.”

“That rule only applies when the driver’s taste isn’t _crap._ ”

“ _Excuse_ me?” gaped Shiro.

Allura mouthed _What’s happening?_ to Lance with a delighted look on her face. Lance just shrugged back.

Meanwhile Keith was still angrily making his case. “Do you really want Allura to know you listen still to emo trash unironically?”

“Now you take that back!”

There was something kind of weird about watching Shiro and Keith bicker like Lance and his siblings. Lance hadn’t seen either of them so _open_ before.

“ _Give. Me. The. Aux. Cord._ ”

It was kind of amazing.

“Keith, we do not need to inflict Lance and Allura with your experimental metal. It gives people anxiety.”

“Fine!” cried Keith. “I’ll play something mainstream. Just save us from your playlist.”

“My playlist is _fine_ ,” argued Shiro.

“Yesterday it jumped from a seventies ballad to Broadway!”

“ _Seriously_ , dude?” interrupted Lance. The more he got to know Shiro, the more he was starting to think that “the guy who has it all together” was a shockingly inaccurate front and he wasn’t sure how anyone fell for it.

“It’s my running playlist,” said Shiro, completely unapologetic. “It’s organized by beats per minute.”

“Oooh! That’s a great idea!” said Allura. “That way you aren’t always having to readjust your stride!”

Shiro grinned and nodded. “ _Exactly_.”

During that brief moment distraction, Keith unbuckled and lunged across consul, falling back into his seat with the aux cord in hand.

“KEITH!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, idiot!”

Shiro stopped trying to grab the aux cord back, but his voice dropped to a growl. “I swear, if make me listen to _Einstein on the Beach_ one more time—”

“Chill, you freak! I’m putting on Queen!”

At that, Allura lost the battle and dissolved into giggles.

***

They made it to wherever they were going (nobody had filled Lance on what they were doing  _still_ ) and with only minor disgruntled muttering from Shiro.

(“Singing is the one thing Shiro’s not naturally gifted at. So of course he hates it,” Keith explained to Lance. He smirked. “But he can’t resist Bohemian Rhapsody.” With that, he turned the volume to eleven on the very song and—Frick. Why was that so _hot?_ )

As it turned out, they had arrived at the city sculpture park. There were several walkways, a duck pond at one end, and a collection of small and quirky shops on the other. Shiro went to get Allura’s door, but Lance automatically helped himself out before Keith could manage his so instead they just met eyes awkwardly over the hood of the car. When Lance looked back, Allura was on tip-toe, hand on Shiro’s shoulder as she whispered in his ear (she was totally feeling him up on purpose, the little _sneak_ ). Shiro looked surprised at first but soon brought up a hand to hide his grin. Not that it worked. Even his eyes were laughing. Lance was trying to figure out what they were talking about when he received a sharp poke in the shoulder.

“Wah—Keith!”

“Lance,” replied Keith deadpan. He jerked his chin toward the park. “Let’s go.”

“Uh, are we not going to wait for Shiro and Allura?”

Keith glanced over to where Shiro was bent over Allura, both of them whispering furiously to each other, though Shiro looked up long enough to nail Keith with a look that made Keith scowl.

“No,” said Keith firmly. He grabbed Lance by the wrist (physical! contact!) and yanked. “Come on.”

“Whoa, buddy! Ask first!”

Keith paused, though he didn’t drop Lance’s wrist. “Come. On?” he tried, looking adorably bewildered.

“Close enough,” sighed Lance. He allowed Keith to drag him forward. “You know this is a bit awkward though, right? Like, are you going to hold my hand or not?”

Unfortunately, Keith chose the option that included dropping Lance’s hand. Lance’s stomach sank. He almost considered grabbing Keith’s hand himself, just to prove something, but he couldn’t bring himself to face the following rejection. He was starting to wish he’d stayed in his blue footie pajamas and refused to let Allura drag him out of his room.

“So, uh, do you have a plan here or…?”

“Yeah,” said Keith.

“Oh,” said Lance. “That’s…” _Remarkably out of character_ , was how Lance wanted to finish that sentence, but that felt like the wrong thing to say.

Keith glanced over his shoulder. “Just a little farther. I want to make sure Shiro can’t hear us.”

“Uh, should I be worried about things you don’t want Shiro to overhear?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Shiro isn’t as sensible as you think he is.”

“Okay. Fair. But _still._ Like, my mom warned me about strange men—”

“Relax, Lance,” said Keith. “I’m not going to axe murder you.”

“Funny enough, that was _not_ on my list of worse case scenarios, so thanks so much for adding that one. I really appreciate—”

“Lance!” Keith clasped his hands on either side of Lance’s face, effectively shutting Lance up. He wasn’t wearing his gloves (the gloves came _off_?!) so Lance could feel his warm palms against his jaw and the calluses of his fingers. “You aren’t the one who can mess this up.”

Lance blew out his cheeks against Keith’s fingers. “Are you sure? Because I would think that I have at least a fifty percent chance of messing this up. Like I’m _really_ good at messing things up—”

“LANCE!”

“I’m just pointing out I think there are some factors that you haven’t considered…”

Keith removed his hands from Lance’s face, and Lance felt cold without them. “You’re not going to mess this up because you can’t, okay?” he said, voice low and carefully enunciated like he was trying to sound reasonable. Actually, it sounded a lot like he was trying to imitate Shiro. “Just…relax. Try to, I dunno, chill or something.”

“Keith. What about our relationship so far has ever suggested to you I have any amount of chill?”

Keith sighed and rolled his eyes. But he did take Lance’s hand and gently tug him forward before dropping it again.

“Okay, so now we’re sitting on a park bench,” said Lance as Keith pushed him where he wanted him. “Awesome. Cool.”

Keith threw his head back against the back of the park bench, eyes closed. “You are so—!” he began but trailed off. He lifted his head up and looked at Lance with a slight smile. “I guess I’m not surprised.”

“Um. I’ll take that as a compliment?”

Keith allowed his smile to extend just a little. “Yeah, sure,” he said generously.

They sat in awkward silence.

“So park benches!” said Lance after about thirty seconds when he could no longer stand it. “Excellent specimen we have here—”

“Give me a minute!” interrupted Keith. “I’m trying to find the words!”

Lance froze his leg jiggling. “Oh?”

Keith’s hands were bunched up in fists on his knees. “It’s important,” he said. “I want to explain it to you, but I don’t normally talk about it so—So just give me a bit, okay?”

For the first time since the party on Saturday, the panicked screaming in Lance’s head went quiet. He looked at Keith’s liquid-dark eyes and the nervous set of his mouth, and something in Lance just turned _calm_.

“Yeah, sure,” said Lance with complete sincerity. “As much time as you need.”

Keith flashed Lance a look of gratitude then turned back to his knees while Lance waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“I’ve been in foster care since I was six,” said Keith, still looking as his knees. “It was—the families weren’t all bad. I kind of was. I don’t know. Nobody wanted me to stay. I couldn’t connect or make friends or any of that. I kept on bouncing around from house to house until I was really angry and I felt like there was something broken about me because I just _couldn’t._ I had pretty much given up on anyone even caring when I met Shiro.”

“Shiro,” repeated Lance, an inkling of understanding dawning.

Keith looked at him with eyes wide and pleading for… _something_. “Yeah. There was this judo gym that I hung out at because it was one of the few places that didn’t ask where my parents were or take money, and Shiro took lessons there. For some reason, he decided to pay attention to me and started teaching me. He didn’t care that I said the wrong things or just…did things _wrong_. He stood up for me and made the other kids at my school stop making fun of me, and when he found out that my foster parents pretty much ignored the fact that I existed, he convinced _his_ parents to foster me.”

Keith’s hands balled white-knuckled on his knees and he looked away again. “And then he nearly _died_ last year. We didn’t know if he would ever get better, and I thought the Shiroganes would kick me out and I would never—never get to pay him back for everything he did for me.”

“Keith…” said Lance, laying a hand softly on Keith’s arm. Keith didn’t shake him off, and Lance took that as a good sign.

“I’m sorry,” said Keith, sincerely, firmly, and completely out of the blue.

“For what?” said Lance.

“For—for at the party,” said Keith. He’d lost a little bit of his confidence and composure, but the determination was still there. “For yelling at you and taking it all out on you.”

“Oh,” said Lance. He didn’t know what to think. He was still working on processing that Keith didn’t hate him. “Oh.”

“I know you do care.” Keith snorted. “You care about everyone. You care about the feelings of _bagels_.”

“Hey, they probably have a big inferiority complex having to complete with donuts!”

Keith snorted again, but it was fond. Slowly, his expression sobered. “I’m just not really used to people caring about me,” he said. He cleared his throat and continued, firmer. “You’re so—I don’t know. You’re _bright_. And happy and funny, and I know you don’t believe it, but you’re really freaking smart, too. And sometimes it seems crazy that you’d want to focus all that _good stuff_ on me.”

Lance finally unstuck his tongue. “Are you _kidding?_ ” he spat. “You—You’re _Keith Kogane._ You’re like badass incarnate! You’re all casually beautiful and you don’t give a crap what anyone else thinks, and I’m still shocked _you_ noticed _me!_ ”

“How was I supposed to not notice you?” snorted Keith. “You’re freaking loud.”

“I mean like _notice_ notice me.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you somehow miss that you’re attractive?”

Lance felt his cheeks go red, but for once it felt like the _good_ kind of blush. “Of course I’m attractive. I’m freaking beautiful is what I am. A gift of mankind. Can’t have skin like this without—”

Keith started to laugh, quiet and breathless, but so, _so_ soft. He leaned into Lance’s space, not touching but just _close_. “You are attractive, Lance. I like you. And I really want to date you.”

Lance’s heart was racing, his head was spinning, he was kind of aware that he _was_ happy while still processing the actual act of _feeling_ happy. And maybe,  _maybe_ he felt like Keith deserved a bit of turnaround because what came out of his mouth was, “So, like, with or without Shiro this time?”

“Without Shiro,” said Keith immediately. His expression darkened. “Now that Shiro knows what’s going on, he would _definitely_ go along with it and neither of us deserve that.”

“I don’t know,” grinned Lance. “You might deserve it a little.”

Keith scowled. “You don’t have to deal with him at home.”

“Hey, I have to deal with Allura. Not exactly off scot-free here!”

Keith’s eyes took on the thousand-yard stare. “They deserve each other,” he said while Lance broke out into snickers.

“Hey, Keith,” said Lance suddenly. “You know what I want to do?”

“Um, no?” said Keith, looking worried like maybe that was the wrong answer.

Lance smiled gently. “I want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” said Keith.

And then, before Lance’s eyes, Keith _blushed._

Keith Kogane—the cool, the unflappable—blushed. Pink stained his cheeks and spread, reaching to his ears.

“Can I?” asked Lance.

Keith didn’t say anything, but he gave a small, hopeful nod. So Lance leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft and chaste and when Lance pulled back, Keith’s entire face was fire-engine red.

“Seriously, dude? You’re like a tomato!”

“I’m sorry!” shouted Keith, hands flailing. “I’ve never done this before!”

Lance caught those flailing hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “We can figure it out together.”

Lance leaned in, and this time Keith closed the gap between them, and Lance was finally where he wanted to be all along: Kissing Keith Kogane.

***

“All right,” said Shiro, shifting from the uncomfortable position he’d held for the last ten minutes cramped behind a bush. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

“Ah, really?” said Hunk disappointedly.

“No kidding,” said Pidge, poking at the split screen on her laptop that displayed Keith and Lance on the screen along with controls for Rover. “I’m collecting a goldmine for their wedding.”

“They might not marry each other,” suggested Allura gently.

“I don’t care who they marry,” said Pidge. “This is the most disastrous courtship I have ever witnessed. No way am I not getting mileage of out it.”

“As long as you let me bring it up in my best man speech for Keith,” said Shiro.

“Deal,” said Pidge, holding out her hand for a high five that Shiro happily completed.

Hunk leaned close to Allura, eyes cutting between Pidge and Shiro. “He’s a good fit around here, isn’t he?” he said slyly.

“Of course he is,” said Allura. “He fits well any—” Allura caught on to the knowing look on Hunk’s face and felt her face go red.

Hunk grinned. “Just saying… You might want to do something about that.”

Allura looked at the profile Shiro made, laughing with Pidge, and her teeth sunk into her lip.

No, Hunk was wrong. It was far past time—she _needed_ to do something about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week...Shallura!!


	17. Sweet

“But are you sure you have to go?” pleaded Hunk.

Shiro glanced to the park bench where Keith and Lance had become more, er, _enthusiastic_ , and winced. “As happy as I am for Keith and this evidence of his emotional development, I _really_ don’t need the mental image of my little brother eating another boy’s face.”

“Good point,” agreed Allura quickly. “There are things I don’t need to know about Lance, either.”

“Suit yourselves,” said Pidge. “I’ll let you know if anything else blackmail worthy come up,” she added to Shiro.

“I appreciate it,” said Shiro, flashing her smile before army crawling out of their hiding place, Allura behind him. Keith and Lance were way too distracted to likely notice them even if Shiro ran by naked, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. Besides, Allura was Very Serious about moving undetected, and her enthusiasm was infectious. Shiro would do a lot dumber things that army-crawl through a public park if it meant seeing Allura happy like that.

Then again, Shiro was trying very hard not to think too much about the entire situation because if he did he’d get stuck on the fact that it was _Allura_ behind him and—Well, and Shiro was trying to keep up the façade that he was a functional human being. He had no idea if they were actually on a real date right now or not, but just being near Allura was making him giddy. Army crawling was the _least_ stupid of the thing going through his head right now.

Once they got to all clear zone, Shiro climbed to his feet and immediately reached down to help Allura up. She didn’t need it, but it was an excuse to hold her hand and she didn’t complain.

Allura worked on adjusting her skirt that had become twisted around her legs while Shiro dusted the dirt off his knees.

“Perhaps this wasn’t the best choice of attire,” said Allura as she re-tucked her shirt into her skirt.

“Keith and Lance would have been suspicious if we had shown up in cameo,” said Shiro, who hadn’t been aware of the full extent of Pidge and Hunk’s spy equipment until today but happily jumped on board once he did.

“We could have said we were going paintballing,” suggested Allura thoughtfully.

“Oh, I like that,” grinned Shiro. “If they hadn’t figured it out today, I’d say do that. I could shoot Keith until he finally confessed to Lance.”

Allura covered her mouth over an influx of giggles. Shiro didn’t understand how someone so strong and brilliant could also be so _cute_ , but she was and it was kind of doing serious damage to his heart.

“There’s a gelato shop on the other side of the park,” said Allura. “Do you want to go get some while we wait for Keith and Lance?”

“Sure,” said Shiro. He probably would have followed Allura into the sewer if she asked, but gelato was good too.

Once there, Allura insisted on trying _every single flavor_ and roped Shiro into the experiment as well. Shiro normally wasn’t that picky, but watching Allura’s expressions—whether she liked a flavor or really did _not_ —was almost better than the gelato itself. And then Allura paid because she jabbed her elbow into Shiro’s ribs and leveled such a glare at the cashier that the poor guy rung them up as fast as possible and possibly gave them a discount.

Shiro’s heart was hammering. Allura paid for him. _He_ had been planning to pay for _her_. Did that make this a real date? Or did Allura just do this for all her friends? Shiro wanted it _so badly_ to be a real date, but he was rapidly losing the wherewithal to bring it up.

Allura was such a vibrant, wonderful person. Could she really see him in the same way?

“Let’s eat outside!” said Allura, already digging into her gelato with a pleased smile. Shiro forced himself not stare.

“Sure,” said Shiro. He hurried ahead to open the door for her. He felt a bit silly doing these old fashioned things for her, but Allura flashed a smile at him when he did and his heart turned all gooey inside. “I can pay you back,” he added as they headed for one of the small tables in front of the gelato shop.

“Oh no!” cried Allura immediately. “I mean—” she coughed “—I really don’t mind,” she added softer, not looking at him.

It was such an un-Allura-like response. Shiro didn’t know what to say. She was fiddling with her skirt again, and Shiro was distracted by the hint of long, brown legs peaking through.

“Oh, hm?” he said when he realized she had spoken again.

“I said, here good?” Allura had led them to a table in the corner of the outside patio, and Shiro took the seat she indicated.

And it was _awkward_. They were both sitting, nibbling at their ice cream in silence, neither of them saying anything. Shiro couldn’t recall a time when it had been _hard_ to talk to Allura before. Conversation seemed to flow naturally between them normally.

Normally, Shiro wasn’t so vividly aware of his own pounding heart.

Allura was chasing the last of her gelato around the base of her cup when she said, “So you and Keith are better then?”

It took a second for Shiro to figure out what she was referring to, and then he blushed. “Oh. Yeah, we talked it out.” And now that the conversation had started, Shiro realized what he should have led with from the beginning.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything you did for me.”

Allura waved her spoon dismissively. “You already thanked me.”

“Not enough,” said Shiro with a small smile. “You didn’t have to deal with any of my mess, but you did and you didn’t even let me feel bad for it. I don’t know _how_ you did it. Are you secretly magic or something?” Shiro grinned into Allura’s kaleidoscope blue eyes. “All I know is that you are seriously incredible.”

And Allura abruptly dropped her face into both her hands.

Shiro’s stomach bottomed out. He lurched across the table, hand out in an aborted motion. “Did I say something wrong?”

Allura let out an unintelligible groan.

“I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean—!”

“ _Takashi Shirogane_ ,” Allura growled out. She lifted her head from her hands, and to Shiro’s shock, she was red to the roots of her hair. “How do you just _say_ those things?!”

“What things?” said a very baffled Shiro.

Allura, if possible, went redder. “Those things! Seriously incredible. ‘Kind of amazing’!”

“It’s not hard. That’s what you are.”

Allura covered her face and groaned again.

Shiro’s ice cream was curdling in his stomach. “I can stop if it’s making you uncomforta—”

“NO!” shouted Allura. Her voice turned into a glower. “Do _not_.”

“O-kay?” said Shiro. “I guess I won’t.”

Allura visibly drew herself together. She took a deep breath and eyed Shiro like he was a contest she was about to win, and it was both scary and possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

And then—Shiro wasn’t quite sure what happened next. But there were lips on his—warm, soft, still sticky from the gelato, and Shiro had barely registered they were there before they were gone again and his face was burning like the sun.

“Wha—wha—?”

Words were beyond him at the moment.

“That’s…to make things clear,” said Allura, who was also blushing but not nearly as badly as Shiro at this moment.

Ninety percent of Shiro’s brain was trying to burn the feeling of Allura’s lips permanently into his memory.

“Uh, you’re going to have to run that by me again,” he managed to get out.

Allura’s eyebrows drew together. “You want me to kiss you again?”

If Shiro thought his face couldn’t get redder, he was wrong. “No—I mean, _yes_ —but—What just happened?”

Allura looked like she about to bury her face miserably in her hands again, but Shiro caught them first. He curled his fingers gently around hers and brought them to rest on the table between them.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You can tell me anything, okay?”

Allura looked at him through her lashes, color high in her cheeks. She was painfully beautiful, and Shiro was reminded that as confident and brilliant as she was, Allura didn’t like to appear anything _less_. It was one of things that flowed so easily between them. She had been so good at understanding him before; it was his turn to return the favor now. So Shiro didn’t say anything or otherwise indicate he noticed her embarrassment, instead just gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“I like you,” admitted Allura. She took a breath and pushed on. “Like I have a huge, massive, _embarrassing_ crush on you. And I can’t figure out if you feel the same way and this is a real date or if it’s just a ruse to trap Lance and Keith but I really _want_ it to be real and—Oh! I didn’t even ask! I’m sorry! I should have—”

“It’s okay,” said Shiro. “You can kiss me any time you want.”

He couldn’t say it without blushing, but the words seemed to have a similar effect on Allura, so it was okay.

Allura took a fortifying breath. “Does this mean you like me, then?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Shiro laughed. “Kind of a lot, actually.”

They had moved closer together, their hands still entwined between them. Shiro could see all the colors of Allura’s eyes, but his gaze kept flickering to her lips.

“I like you,” repeated Allura.

“I like you, too.”

This time Shiro wasn’t sure who moved first. They met in the middle, their noses smashing together until Shiro turned his head one way and Allura tilted hers another and they melted into each other, until the patio and the park and the shopped faded away and all that existed was them.

***

Later, when they were walking through the shops, holding hands, laughing, and stealing kisses, Shiro leaned against the shop’s backwall, breathless, hands resting tentatively on Allura’s waist.

“So…does this mean we’re together because Keith’s a human disaster?”

Allura blanched. “Are we together because my cousin talked me into his idiotic plan to get a boyfriend?”

Shiro snorted. He noticed a strand of Allura’s hair that had fallen out of place (his fault, that messy hair was _his_ fault) and reached up to tuck it behind her ear.

“I bet we would have figured it out.”

Allura flashed him a smile that was bright and sharp. “We _are_  pretty intelligent. We wouldn’t need any outside help.”

Shiro’s mind flashed back to his most recent conversations with Keith. “Well… _mostly._ ”

Allura wacked him arm. “Shiro!”

“I was agreeing with you!”

Allura rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. Shiro felt like he hadn’t stopped grinning since the first time she kissed him.

“Do you think Lance and Keith have worked everything out now?”

Shiro looked at Allura, already dreading the moment he would have to separate from her. “You know, we should probably give them a few more minutes,” he suggested. “Or an hour. Make it an hour. Just in case.”

“Just in case?” repeated Allura, smirking.

“You never know. My brother is very thickheaded.”

“As is Lance,” said Allura tapping her lips, and she had _definitely_ figured out what that did to him by now. “I _suppose_ I could spent another hour with you.”

“For Keith and Lance.”

Allura’s mischievous smirk matched his own. “For Keith and Lance.”

***

Keith and Lance were still waiting over two hours later.

“Where  _is_ he?” said Keith for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“Hey, Shiro’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” said Lance.

“You have a vastly overinflated belief in Shiro’s sense of self-preservation,” deadpanned Keith.

It would have been annoying, insulting even, in any other circumstances, the way Keith was behaving. But now Lance had his arm around Keith, both of them sprawled out on the hood of Shiro’s car, and Keith was leaning back into Lance’s chest as he poked aggressively at his phone.

Lance set his chin on top of Keith’s head. “What are you worried about anyway? Some store manager conscripted your brother into modeling shoddy souvenirs?”

Keith twisted to look at Lance. “It could happen,” he said seriously, and Lance burst out laughing.

Dating Keith was the best.

“Hey, boys!”

Shiro and Allura had—finally—arrived, both looking delighted and slightly out of breath.

“Did you two finally work it out?” beamed Allura.

“Were you making out on my car?” said Shiro more suspiciously.

“Hey, you just said nothing nasty _in_ your car,” said Keith with smirk and leaning further into Lance. Allura burst out laughing while Lance tried and failed not to go red. Shiro rolled his eyes and flicked Keith on the ear, though with a quick murmur of, “Proud of you, buddy.” Which would have been sweet, if Lance hadn’t just caught onto something of vital importance.

“Wait wait wait wait wait! Are you two _holding hands_?!”

Shiro and Allura both blushed but tried (and, irritatingly, mostly succeeded) to play it cool.

“Well, if we were on a date, we figured we might as well make the most of it,” said Allura, and if you didn’t know her well enough, you _might_ miss the crowing triumph in her eyes.

“I’m not sure why you’re surprised,” said Shiro. “According to Allura, weren’t you two get us together the entire time?”

Keith spluttered in betrayal. “You _told_ him?!?”

“I hardly believe in keeping secrets from my boyfriend,” said Allura with a beaming smirk.

Shiro went pink. It was unfairly adorable. 

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance called, smirking.  “If you dating my cousin, does that mean you’ll give me dirt on Keith?”

Too bad Shiro recovered way too quickly. “Yeah, sure,” he said agreeably. “Want me to start now?”

“I hate all of you,” declared Keith.

“You’re still holding my hand,” Lance reminded him.

Keith responded by handing Lance’s hand more aggressively.

“You know, Shiro and I really went through quite a lot to get you two together,” said Allura, fake pouting as she started herding them into the car. “Is this how you’re going to repay us?”

“Literally no one asked you to get involved.”

“Pretty sure using me as an excuse not to date is asking me to be involved, Keith.”

“I seem to recall Lance begging me to…what was it again? Save you from ‘the crushing weight of your pining doom?’”

Lance’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t anticipated this outcome. “You guys aren’t ever going to let us live this down, are you?” His eyes darted between them. “ _Either_ of you.”

Shiro and Allura’s grins were terrifying and identical.

“ _Never_.”

***

And yet, somehow, the ride home ended up quiet. After all the emotions of the day, they settled into an unexpected lull. Keith was curled up next to Lance, Lance’s long fingers carding their way through Keith’s hair while Allura’s soft folk music played through the car. At a stoplight, Shiro fiddled with his phone for a second before reaching out to take Allura’s hand again, their fingers lacing together over the console. Keith knew his brother well enough to recognize the quiet happiness on his face, and despite Keith’s insistence that he didn’t _have_ a heart, thank you very much, he felt something warm and gooey melting in his chest all the same.

Keith’s phone buzzed.

 

**To: Pointy Ball of Rage**

Told you it was worth it

 

Keith’s gaze darted to Shiro who took just a second to look distinctly _smug_. The jerk. But then Lance exhaled and rested his chin on Keith’s head. Keith turned to look at Lance who just smiled, bright and shimmering like fireworks on New Year’s. And all Keith could do was smile back and lean against Lance again.

 

**To: Takashit**

Fine. You were right

:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and then we're through (sorry for any confusion--I miss counted my chapters before). Epilogue next week--though I may be convinced to post early with sufficient flattery


	18. Epilogue

_Seven months later_

“Shiro and Allura got Cutest Couple?!” cried Lance. He was sitting on the grass outside their high school, flipping through the yearbook and spluttering in outrage.

“This is a surprise?” said Pidge. “Shiro and Allura got like fifty percent of the superlatives between them this year.”

“And they _are_ really cute. I totally called it.” Hunk clasped his hands together and beamed. “It’s nice when the universe proves me right.”

Lance huffed and looked down at the one person who hadn’t contributed to the conversation yet. “Do _you_ not have a problem with this?!” he demanded. 

Keith lifted his head out of Lance’s lap. His dark eyebrows were pinched together. “No?” he said in confusion. “Why would I have a problem with it?”

Lance threw his hands in the air. “What about us? _We’re_ a cute couple!”

“There it is,” snickered Pidge.

Keith pushed himself up and took Lance’s face in both hands. “Lance,” he said seriously. “I love you, but we are not a cute couple. We are not even a nice couple. We are snarky and socially awkward, and we like it that way.”

“Wow, Keith. You really know make a guy feel good about himself.”

“Also you’re hot.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“Ew, gross,” interrupted Pidge. “Go take your cooties somewhere else.”

Just to spite her, Lance kissed Keith squarely on the lips.

“It  _is_ weird to think that we’re this close to the end of semester, though,” said Hunk while Pidge made gagging noises. He frowned. “Allura and Shiro won’t be here next year.”

“Or Matt,” added Pidge. She grinned. “I can finally have full access to the video games he swears he doesn’t hide in his room.”

Keith didn’t say anything but pressed his face into Lance’s shoulder. Lance knew Keith was worried about Shiro leaving next year, even if he wouldn’t admit it. What Keith didn’t know was that Shiro was just as worried about leaving _Keith_.

(Lance had brought a milkshake over when Keith got his wisdom teeth out because he was an amazing boyfriend— _annnnd_ wanted to make fun of drugged up Keith. Okay, so maybe they weren’t really that good at being cute after all. But Keith had been asleep, so instead Lance had spent two hours playing video games with Shiro which turned into divulging deep personal secrets because bonding sessions with Shiro were apparently _hard core._ It would be terrifying if Shiro weren’t such a genuinely good guy.)

“De- _press_ -ing!” sang Lance, patting his boyfriend on the head like a cat because one of the side effects of dating Keith was picking up on his awkward habits. “No thinking about people leaving. We have a whole summer! We need to start planning!”

“Well, that sounds like a terrifying prospect if I’ve ever heard one,” said a mild voice above them.

“Hey, Shiro,” said Keith, but his quiet smile was overridden by Lance’s cry, “Shiro! What are your chances of getting a pilot’s license by the end of the summer?”

“Possible but unlikely.”

“Oh, I see who’s the favorite here,” complained Allura, who had arrived with Shiro and was now tugging him onto the grass so she could sit in his lap.

“You’re  _my_ favorite,” said Shiro, tucking his chin into her shoulder.

“GROSS,” declared Pidge. “Could you guys stop being cute and adorable for _five seconds_?”

“Speaking of—congratulations on cutest couple,” added Hunk.

“Thank you,” preened Allura as she settled further into Shiro’s chest. “We _are_ adorable, aren’t we?”

“Also, Allura’s head of the yearbook committee,” Shiro pointed out.

Allura immediately whipped around.

“TAKASHI!”

Shiro bust out laughing, even as Allura started jabbing his chest.

“We WON. We are the BEST couple!”

“Uh…I don’t think it actually works like that?” tried Hunk, but Allura was still berating a laughing Shiro.

“There were METRICS and POINTS, and we WON.”

Shiro covered her ears with his hands and stage whispered, “ _Nepotism_.”

Allura turned her back on him, her arms folded across her chest, although she hadn’t made a move to get off his lap. “If that’s the way you feel, we can just break up,” she declared.

Shiro pouted. “But then what about the cutest couple?”

“Disgusting,” said Pidge, shaking her head.

Keith jabbed Lance in the side. “See? We don’t want to be the cute couple.”

“But—There are _points_!” whined Lance.

Keith blinked twice before exhaling loudly and collapsing against Lance. Which meant Lance won: they were totally completing for best couple next year.

“See, I don’t understand how you think _we’re_ gross when Keith is practically dissolved into Lance,” pointed out Shiro.

“Screw you, Shiro,” said Keith into Lance’s collarbone, but his voice was soft and muffled and coming from Keith that was practically, “I love you.”

Lance found he agreed. It was going to suck not having Shiro and Allura around next year, but they had a good thing going here. They had a _solid_ thing going. Lance didn’t believe for a minute it would be over as soon Shiro and Allura left for college. Allura would be home for the holidays, and Shiro would text Keith insistently. Pidge would keep them all up to date on what bizarre scrapes Shiro pulled Matt out of—or, alternately, dragged him into that Allura had to rescue them both from. And Hunk was already making a college cookbook for them with instructions like “remove the packaging BEFORE placing noodles in water” because for two such hyper-competent individuals, they were both shockingly bad cooks.

And, of course, Lance had Keith and Keith had Lance, so at least if they were missing their adopted siblings, they could do it together.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a soft voice cutting into Lane’s ruminations re: the benefits of his totally awesome boyfriend. “But I was hoping Hunk would sign my yearbook?”

Lance looked up, startled. There was a pretty girl with dark skin and big hoop earrings and a long pause before Hunk finally remembered to speak.

“Oh! Shay! Hi. Hi. Shay,” stuttered Hunk. “I mean—Sure! Of course. Let me just—” Hunk scrambled to his feet his cheeks now brilliant red.

“It’s over by the table—”

“Sure! Let’s go!” said Hunk, shooting at sharp _Shut up!_ look at the rest of them and hurrying away.

Lance took a single moment to look over the surprised expressions on everyone else before slamming his free hand against the ground.

“Who  _is_ she?” he demanded, outright offended that Hunk would even think of having a crush without telling him.

“Shay,” supplied Keith.

“Thank you, Keith. That was very helpful.”

“She’s in his machining class,” said Pidge. “Apparently she’s a girl he ‘ _admires very much_.’” Pidge finished with sarcastic airquotes.

“Oh that’s adorable!” squealed Allura while Lance spluttered in outrage.

“He didn’t tell me this!”

“He won’t admit it’s a crush,” said Keith. “What?” he said, when everyone stared at him. “We talked.”

Shiro shook his head. “That is definitely a crush.”

“I know, and we’re going to have to deal with denial for the next _year_ at this rate,” groaned Pidge.

“ _Or…_ ” Allura leaned forward, a familiar gleam to her smile. She met Lance’s eyes and he suddenly knew what she was thinking. “We were talking about what we’re going to do with this summer.”

Lance grinned. “Yes, I like where this is going.”

“What’s going?” said Keith at the same time Shiro uttered a quiet, “Oh no.”

“We only have this last summer all together,” said Allura. “And I for one would like it to be memorable. Not to mention, I think we already have quite some experience getting people together.” She tipped her head toward Keith and Lance.

“Hey, I resent being singled out!” cried Lance. “Keith and I would have figured it out!”

“No offense to you, Lance,” said Shiro. “But knowing my brother—No. You would not.”

“At least I knew I _had_ a crush!”

Pidge cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me, but you are _all_ disasters and it’s a miracle any of you figured this out.”

“Well, maybe Allura not so much,” said Shiro, and Lance had to conceded the point.

Allura clasped her hands together. “ _Pidge_ and I have experience getting people together,” she corrected. “And the rest of you are not completely useless either.”

“Well, as long as we’re not _completely_ useless,” drawled Lance.

Allura flicked Lance in the ear, before going back to ‘princess pose’ and looking around at the all. “I propose we use this summer to get Hunk together with his true love.”

“IN!” shouted Lance immediately.

“I can use Rover. And he has upgrades!” Pidge grinned. “I’m in!”

Allura twisted around to look at Shiro, who shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

“Keith?” asked Allura.

Keith looked at Lance, and he face softened. “All right,” he said. “I’m in, too.”

“BOOM!” yelled Lance. “We’re doing this, baby!”

Lance’s celebration was cut short by—

“Oh hey, Hunk,” said Shiro pleasantly. “How do you feel about us helping you with your love life?”

Hunk held his hands to his chest and was looking around them all as if hoping to find weakness or at least some kind of indication this was a joke. What he got instead was a very enthusiastic Lance, Pidge and Allura looking equally terrifying and excited, Keith seeming almost hopeful, and Shiro who either sincerely believed he was helping or knew _exactly_ what he was doing and was reveling in it. It was hard to tell with Shiro.

Hunk exhaled loudly and dropped onto his back on the grass. “Oh sure, just go right ahead. Don’t mind me here, dying.”

“Excellent! It’s a go!” cried Allura. “We can start planning immediately.”

“Seriously? Everyone is on board on this? _Shiro_?”

“Hey, it worked out for me,” grinned Shiro.

“Keith?!”

Keith shrugged. “Lance is doing it.”

“We can use Rover again!” added Pidge. “It’s going to AMAZING!”

Yeah, thought Lance while Hunk sent him a betrayed look and Lance beamed back. It had all turned out so much better than he could have imagined when he asked Keith out that one day in chemistry.

And the result was all around amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has made it this far! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments make my day :D


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